Dumb Boys
by OtherLuces
Summary: At Park County HS, Clyde Donovan is a star football player & one of the most popular guys there. Unfortunately for him, Kenny McCormick is the best drummer in the school and also very popular. Clyde decides that something must be done to find out who is the true top guy at the school: a contest to see who can sleep with the most people in a semester. High school AU, Clenny, aged-up
1. Prologue

"Are we r-r-rolling?"

"Jimmy, this is a digital videocamera. There's no rolling. There's no film _to_ roll!"

"Sh-shu-t the fu-uhh-uck up, Kevin!" Jimmy blinked a few times. He tapped the wireless mic in his hand. Kevin simply shook his head. "Uhh…we'll fix that in p-post."

Kevin chuckled as he zoomed in slightly to improve the shot, adjusting it so that Jimmy was better placed in the frame.

"Okay, ready? Aaand-" He pointed his finger silently at his friend.

"Welcome to Park County High Super School News, video edition! This is your host, senior journalist Jimmy Valmer! It's that time of year again here in Park County. The sun is out, the snow has long melted, and it's a brand new school year. Can I get a wh-what-what for the Senior Class of 2018?"

Jimmy smiled at the camera and posed, waiting for Kevin to respond.

"Umm…what-what?" he awkwardly replied behind the camera.

"That's the kind of enthusiasm that we have here at Park County High!"

Kevin had to stifle his laughter. Jimmy was a pro in front of the camera, especially at the "fake it until you make it" technique of pretending that everything is better than it is.

"With the dawn of the new school year," Jimmy continued, "comes everybody's fa-favorite American pastime, football! And here behind me, we have the 2017 Colorado State Division 2-A runner ups, your Park County Bulls!"

Jimmy stepped back and lifted his arm to point his crutch behind him, his forearm and bicep subtly flexing as he did. His arms had become quite strong and defined once he hit puberty. Having to carrying your own body weight day in and day out does that to a person. It was a favorite activity of his to challenge people to arm wrestling contests. His friends only fell for it a few times before they decided they'd rather be his hype men when he set up shop at the food court in the South Park Mall, attempting to swindle some of the town's many idiotic adults out of their petty cash.

Kevin zoomed in his Panasonic HC-V770 that he'd received for his birthday past Jimmy and focused on the human bodies crashing into each other in the distance behind them. The sound of young men grunting as they hurled themselves at one other rang clear across the field. The Bulls' star Quarterback, one Stan Marsh, took a few steps back and bounced on the balls of his feet as he searched for his target. Once he spotted him, he reared his arm back through his shoulder and launched the ball forward. The ball spun beautifully through the air until it was caught by the team's Tight End, Clyde Donovan. Clyde twisted his body around and ran the few remaining yards into the end zone. An eruption of cheers came from the coaching staff and a handful of loyal fans peppering the sidelines. Clyde threw the ball into the dirt and ran into the arms of his friend and teammate, Running Back Token Black. They spun around once before Token placed him down and smacked Clyde's ass in the bizarre tradition of the sport.

"Fuck yeah, baby!" Clyde yelled as he ran back to the 50-yard line. "We're going to make this season our bitch!"

The three seniors engaged in a jumping group hug in the middle of the field.

"This year, we're taking the state championship!" Token yelled.

"Yeah! We Bulls are gonna fuck all the other teams in the ass!" Stan added.

Jimmy turned back to the camera, a slightly stunned expression melding uncomfortably with the pleasant grin of an on-screen television personality. Kevin gave him a similarly awkward look in return, his nose scrunched up and his lips pursed.

"Sooo…let's edit that in post, too," Kevin suggested.

"G-good id-dea." Jimmy scratched his head. "Okay, so let's cue in again and we'll he-head over there."

Kevin lifted up his hand, fingers spread out, and put one finger down at a time as he counted Jimmy back into filming.

"There's a lot of hype around this season's team, especially around seniors St-Stan Marsh, Token Black, and Clyde Donovan. They had a solid season last year, but they're back now and stronger than ev-ev-eeh-ever! Can they take the team all the way to the promise land? We can only wait and watch with bated breath! Let's go over there and see if we can talk to the star players about their thoughts! Come on!"

Kevin continued to film a few seconds of B-roll before he paused the recording. The two teens made their way across the field as the head coach, Mr. McKay, called out for a thirty minute lunch break. When they arrived at the sideline, their attempt to get close to the three football players was thwarted when a thick student in a button up shirt and tie stepped in front of them.

"Going somewhere, gentlemen?"

"Eric, dude, cut it out," Kevin sighed.

"I don't see your media passes. I can't just be having anybody try to get close to my players. Who knows what could happen? You could be crazy stalkers who want to make and wear a suit of their skin!" The years had not made Cartman any less fond of using hyperbole.

"Da-dammit, Eric! This isn't fu-fucking Silence of the La-laaa-lambs! We need interviews with them for the school's video yearbook and for the f-first issue of Super School News!"

"You _need_ them, huh? Hmm…I think we could negotiate a price for their time."

"WHAT?" Jimmy and Kevin exclaimed in unison.

"Look, gentlemen, I'm running a business here!"

"No you're fucking not! You're just the student team manager! You're not the fucking owner of a professional team!" Kevin was livid.

Stan, Token, and Clyde took note of the argument happening near them and made their way over.

"Hey Eric, we got this," Stan said, patting Cartman on the shoulder.

"If you say so, guys. But if they start eyeing your skin, kick their asses, okay?" Eric marched away to help hand out water and sandwiches with the coaching staff.

"What's up, guys?" Stan patted a towel around his collarbone before taking a seat on the bench beside him.

"We were wondering if we could get some quotes for the first issue for the year and some footage for the video yearbook," Jimmy replied.

"Yeah, we've got time for that," Token nodded. He took a seat next to Stan, catching a sandwich that was tossed at him by Cartman.

"Okay, ready to start filming again, Kev?"

"Yup, ready in five, four, three…" He used his fingers to silently finish the countdown before pointing to Jimmy.

"Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, with the senior star players of your Park County Bulls football team! Quarterback Stan Marsh, Running Back Token Black, and Tight End Clyde Donovan!"

Each boy waved at the camera as his name was said, until they reached Clyde who looked at the camera with a mouthful of turkey sandwich.

"Hhrm?" His eyes widened when he realized that they were filming and he choked down the large bite. "Oh shit!" He coughed a few times before tossing the sandwich to the side and placing his hands on his hips. He cocked his head back and winked at the camera. "Hey, what's going on?"

Jimmy kept up his professional integrity and continued to smile through the awkward comeback.

"So fellas, who's the captain this season?"

The three boys looked at each other and smiled. "Actually, Jimmy, all three of us are co-captains," Token replied. "They usually have two co-captains, but Coach McKay couldn't decide between the three of us, so he figured one more captain couldn't hurt."

"Yeah, especially because we work so well together on and off the field," Stan added.

"We're like a well-lubed machine!" Clyde slapped Token on the back as he looked fondly at his friends.

"Uh…the phrase is usually well-oiled machine, Clyde," Token laughed.

"Oiled, lubed, either way it means things run smoothly, if you know what I mean." Clyde gave another wink to the camera.

"Dude, you _do_ know this will be in the video yearbook that parents will see, yeah?" Stan laughed.

"Oh really? Uh…well…then they'll definitely know what I mean," he winked yet again.

"Alrighty, moving on the-then…" Jimmy tried to segue into another question. "How does the team's starting lineup look this season, based on what you've seen so far during the past week of preseason training camp?"

"Our defensive line is looking fantastic this year, so far. That was where a lot of our weaknesses were last year, especially in the playoffs. We did manage to make it to the championship, but our defense just wasn't strong enough to hold off Bayfield." Jimmy nodded as Token spoke.

"That's definitely true," Stan continued. "Also a lot of fans were worried that our offensive line would suffer with the graduation of some of last year's strongest players, but the people taking their spots have been working really hard since last season to be the best they can be."

"Last but not least, there's us," Clyde laughed. "I think this will be our year to cement our high school legacy, how about you, boys? Token broke his personal record for a 50-yard dash over the summer, so he is ready to grab that ball and shoot down the field like a rocket." He grabbed his long-time friend by the shoulders and shook him as he overflowed with excitement. "Stan's accuracy with his throws has gotten scary. Like, if there was ever a zombie apocalypse, just give him all of the grenades and I think we'll be fine."

Stan chuckled at his friend before taking lead of the interview. "Then we have this guy right here," he pointed his thumb at Clyde. "He spent the last year really hitting the gym and working on agility training, so you're going to want to watch out for him. He's like a freaking army tank with a Ferrari engine." Clyde flexed and posed for the camera as Stan handed out the compliments. "Clyde is a beast when he tackles and a mosquito when he ducks and dodges between the other players so that he can catch what I send his way."

"Aww shucks, Stanny, you're too kind." He batted his eyelashes playfully.

"That being said, he still loves Taco Bell and Chipotle way too much," Stan continued.

"Yeah, we can't seem to get rid of this squishy midsection," Token agreed, much to the chagrin of Clyde.

"Hey!" he cried out as his teammates began to poke at his stomach, soon lifting up his practice jersey to show the camera. "Quit it, dicks!"

Jimmy and Kevin tried their best to not join in with Token and Stan's laughter, but they couldn't help letting out a few titters. Jimmy cleared his throat and faced the camera.

"Well, you heard it hear, folks! It sounds like we have quite the season of football to look forward to. Now, let's go ch-check in on the students who always know how to get the party started, the Park County High Cheerleaders!"

"Aaand cut," Kevin spoke right before pausing the camera. "Uh, thanks guys. That was a very…interesting interview. I can definitely use a lot of the footage."

"Please don't make me look like an idiot, Kev," Clyde pleaded.

"I can't promise that."

"Noooo…!" Clyde flopped down onto the bench next to Stan and picked his sandwich back up. "Ah well, it doesn't matter if I look like an idiot or not, I'm still really awesome, so I don't think it will fuck up my super school rep." He took another big bite. "I'm still hot shit."

Jimmy and Kevin thanked the three young men for their time and headed inside into the school gymnasium. They were greeted by the sight of fifteen students practicing some tumbling exercises and lifts on green and white mats. The assistant coach waved them over when she caught sight of them.

"Do you mind if we get some footage?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah, no problem. Do you want to see their new routine so far?"

"That would be fantaaa…fantastic."

"Alright everyone, get in formation and let's take it from the top!"

Kevin set up his tripod and made sure that the entire squad would be in the shot before they began. Jimmy took his camera out of its bag and snapped a few shots to use in the sports section of this week's issue. The front line consisted of all the seniors on the squad. Jimmy waved to Scott Malkinson, who stood in the center. He had joined during his junior year after he was scouted by the head coach. The only member at the time who was strong enough to base was Lisa Berger, so Coach Lahey asked around for who was the strongest student in the school who wasn't already involved with another autumn activity. All roads led to Scott. He was hesitant at first, as he'd never really done any gymnastics before, but he decided to give it a try and it turned out that he was a natural. The other seniors that made up the front line were Lisa, Red, Bebe, Annie, and Nichole. They had stayed with cheerleading since elementary school and their level of dedication showed.

Once the routine had finished, Coach Lahey called for a five minute water break. Jimmy waved to Bebe across the gymnasium floor, who skipped over once she'd grabbed her water bottle from her pink gym bag.

"Hey, what's up guys?" she asked before taking a long swig.

"Hey Bebe, you're all looking really good. I can't wait for the first game," said Jimmy.

"Yeah, I think this may be our best squad yet!"

"You say that every year, Bebe!" Nichole laughed from the side.

"Hey girl, I can't help it if we keep getting more awesome each year," she winked at Jimmy and Kevin as she turned back to face them. "So let me guess, you need some quotes and shit for the newspaper?"

"Bing…bing…bingo."

"Alright, let me get my best promoter face on."

She took a moment to gather herself before flipping her hair back, placing her hands on her hips, and popping her left hip to the side.

"Hey Park County High! It's your girl Bebe here, and I hope you're ready to cheer your butts off this season! The other cheerleaders and I are ready to get you psyched and ready to hear you scream for your Park County Bulls! I hope to see you there this Friday night at seven! Remember, if you come wearing school spirit gear, you get twenty-five percent off concessions!"

She stood up straight and immediately went into a back handspring before sliding into a right split. She held her hands in front of her chest with her index and pinkie fingers sticking out, simulating bull horns.

"Go Bulls!"

"Wow, that was great, Bebe. Do you think we could edit that into a radio ad or something?" Kevin asked.

"Sure, that'd be cool." She rolled through the split and stood up, dusting off her practice shorts. "I kinda want to spend a year or two being a Bacardi girl once I'm old enough. They make some mad cash, and I'd be able to just flirt and party with people, then shove vodka at them. If it helps me pay off my college loans, I think it'd be worth it before I try getting into the actual career world."

"It sounds like you've really thought a lot about this," Jimmy commented.

"Indeed I have, Jimmy. I'm a woman with a plan." She picked up her water bottle and took another drink. "I'll catch you later in school on Tuesday. We have to keep practicing."

"Alrighty then. We need to m-move over to the music room now, anywa-ay."

The two young men gathered their supplies and waved goodbye to the rest of the team as they walked through the double doors toward the rest of the school. As they traveled down the familiar hallway, they could hear the sounds of the marching band working on a new piece. Jimmy's crutches squeaked on the freshly waxed floor, leaving a few fresh black smudges in their wake. The faint smell of bleach still lingered in the air. In less than a week, these halls would be filled with students, new and old, and the scent would quickly change to that of smelly hormonal teenager.

When they reached the band room, they peeked their head in the doorway and waited for the band to be cut off by the director, Mr. Bunting. Once the song was cut off and Mr. Bunting lifted his head toward the door, the entire band turned around to look at the two intruders, almost in unison. Jimmy and Kevin knew that they were supposed to be in sync as a marching band, but this was bordering on creepy.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Mr. Bunting inquired.

"Uh…we were wondering if we could do a little filming of the band?"

Mr. Bunting rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. "I think it'd be better if you came back around six tonight. We'll be heading outside to the field after dinner and that would be a better time to film. Does that work for you both?"

Jimmy and Kevin nodded and left the doorway.

"You wanna head up to the AV room and order some pizza?" asked Kevin.

"Yeah, we can upload the stuff we got today and I can start wr-writing the article on the football team."

* * *

A few hours and one sausage and mushroom pizza later, the two students returned outside. They made their way over to the marching band storage shed, they passed the color guard doing some warm-up exercises. Butters was counting off as he led the group of students in a set of drop spins. He gave Jimmy and Kevin a wink and a smile as they walked by, never faltering in keeping time with the flags. They continued past where the wind instruments were setting up shop, some putting a few drops of oil into their valves, some messing around with warm-up scales. They saw Heidi and Kyle chatting and stopped for quick visit.

"Hey Heidi, how was your summer?" Kevin asked, catching her off-guard.

"Mmhm!" She quickly took her clarinet reed out of her mouth and gave him a hug. "It was great. My family and I took a trip to Spain. It was great! I'll have to show you all the places I filmed sometime."

"I'd like that. So what are you guys playing for your show this year?"

"Some jazz standards," Kyle jumped in. "Then we're closing out the halftime show with Stevie Wonder's 'Superstition'. It's not jazz, but it kicks ass anyway. I'm pretty fucking excited about these horn parts. Heidi here even has a clarinet solo for Rhapsody in Blue."

"No shi-shit!? W-way to go, Heidi!" Jimmy cheered.

"Aww geez, thanks guys. Really though, if you want your minds blown, you gotta listen to our drumline. They are so on point already, it's insane. You should go check out them out over there and see if they'll play this year's cadence for you."

"Thanks for the pro-tip, Heidi. We'll see you around."

They waved goodbye and headed down the field. They passed Wendy along the way as she was carrying the drum major pedestal over to the 50-yard line. She nodded and smiled in their direction instead of waving, as her hands were otherwise occupied. They stopped behind Tweek, who was currently bent over assisting a freshman adjust their cymbal straps.

"Hey Tweek!" they greeted.

"Ahh! Oh shit!" He stumbled back in surprise and fell onto his butt, causing the freshman to point and laugh. He looked up at his two peers with his brow furrowed. "Fuck you, both! Don't fucking sneak up on me!" He leaned forward to slap them on the legs, but they quickly jumped back. "You guys are dicks," he pouted.

"Sorry, Tweek. It's never not going to be hilarious to freak you out," Jimmy laughed.

"You won't be laughing when my fist is shoved up your ass," he responded.

"Who are you fisting now, Tweek?" A voice echoed from inside the band shed.

"Jimmy and fucking Kevin, if they don't quit scaring me."

The young man pulled back his hair into a tiny ponytail. He'd grown it out over the summer, just enough to pull it back when he wanted it out of his face.

"Of course, you're making it sound like I fist people all the time, you fucking sicko," he sneered as he stood up.

"Well, don't you?" the voice asked.

Kenny McCormick came out from the shed with his empty snare harness sitting over his bare shoulders and chest. He had a shit-eating grin on his face. It was one of his favorite things in the world to tease the guy who'd become one of his best friends over the past year.

Tweek and his parents had disappeared from South Park after the sixth grade, and didn't show back up until last year. Tweek Bros coffee had closed suddenly, shocking the entire town, but a grand "new and improved" re-opening happened shortly after the family moved back. There had been plenty of rumors flying around - that Tweek had gone to a private school, that he had been in and out of numerous psychiatric facilities, that he had been in a long-term meth addiction program for teens. No one was really sure where he'd gone to, and he never spoke of what happened in those missing years. All anyone knew was that when he returned, he wasn't quite the Tweek they had remembered.

The Tweek they saw now almost exclusively dressed in metal band t-shirts and jeans, a far cry from the poorly buttoned shirts of his youth. He had three helix piercings on his right ear and he had bilateral lobe piercings that he had just begun to start stretching. He still had a look that was routinely unkempt, but now it felt like that was the point rather than an unintentional accident. He had joined the band on the first day of junior year and Kenny had been drawn to him immediately after hearing him mess around on the school's drum kit. They started hanging out after school and bonding over a love of drumming and an affection for loud, pulsing rock music.

"No!" Tweek's hands started shaking and his facial tic became more prominent. "Fuck! I gotta go have a cigarette before we start warm-ups. I blame you shitheads for this!" He pulled an open pack from the left pocket of his baggy jeans and stuck a cigarette between his lips. "You want one, K?" he mumbled.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm trying to cut back some."

"Suit yourself, man." The messy haired young man moved to a spot behind the shed, disappearing from sight.

"So are you guys going to film us working on our sets tonight?" Kenny asked, turning back to Jimmy and Kevin.

"Yeah. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions before you get too busy?"

He nodded and gestured for them to follow him. He stopped at the bleachers near the closest thirty yard line and removed his harness, leaning it against his drum case. He opened up the black case and pulled out his snare drum, flipping it over to start tuning the bottom head.

"Shoot," he said casually as he began to lightly tap the outer part of the drum head.

"So what can we expect to see from Park County High's star drummer?"

"Star? Fuck off, man…" Kenny dismissed.

"Kenny. You were chosen to be one of eight snare drummers in a state-wide drumline last year. You played at Mile High Stadium last year. You're our school's fucking star drummer. D-d-de-deal with it."

Kenny finished tuning the bottom of the drum and flipped it back over to begin on the top. He didn't try too hard to hide his sly grin at Jimmy's statement. He enjoyed coming off as humble, but deep down inside, he loved hearing about his many accomplishments in music. Coming from poverty and being told every day by your family, teachers, and sometimes your peers, that you'll never amount to anything…that you'll just follow in your parent's footsteps…he loved knowing that every time he put on that harness, every time he heard a crowd cheer and chant his name, he was proving them all wrong. He felt he had earned the ability to be a cocky little shit sometimes, at least while he was still in high school.

"Well, if you insist on calling me that, Jimmy," he smirked. "You can say that I'm gonna keep bringing the sexy back to the football field during halftime."

Jimmy stared at him, slowly blinking. "I'm not writing that, Ken."

"You're no fun."

"This is the school's newspaper, you kn-know. The principal will have my fu-fu-fucking head if I were to print that."

"Really? Aww, well, in that case, just write something about how the drumline is gonna continue to bring the fun this year, the marching band as a whole is going to be something special, yada yada."

Jimmy glared at him.

"Too contrived?" he asked.

"You th-th-think?" Jimmy stammered.

Kenny thought for a moment, then replied with a straight face. "We took state championships in our division last year, so we have a target on our backs and we know it. From what I've seen during band camp, though, we're deadly serious about becoming two-time reigning state champions. Bitches better bow down."

"That was really good…until the part about bitches. I'll just edit that out."

"That's fine. We all basically decided on the first day of band camp that that was our motto for this season…so prepare to hear it a lot this year." Kenny chucked and stood up, now that his drum was tuned and tightened into place on his harness.

Jimmy and Kevin were about to thank him for his time and head up to the press box, when a sudden noise caused them all to stop what they were doing.

 _"It's okay when it's in a three-way…"_

"What the fuck?" they almost said in unison.

 _"It's not gay when it's in a three-way…"_

"Hold up, it's coming from someone's phone over there." Kenny leapt up onto the bleachers, bending over to pick up the ringing mystery phone.

 _"With a honey in the middle there's some leeway…"_

"It says that 'Black Thunder' is calling. Seriously, what the fuck." He swiped to accept the call. "Uh, hello?"

"Hey, hi! Did you find this phone outside by the bleachers?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Yeah…who's asking?"

"Great! I'll be there in a minute!"

The call was dropped and Kenny stared at the phone suspiciously. "Given the ringtone and the call having been from 'Black Thunder', I think we may have found the phone of a gay porn star, you guys."

Barely a moment had passed before Clyde was running toward them from across the field. "Hey! Hey, you lame music nerds the ones who found my phone?" he asked once he was standing alongside Kenny.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Kenny wore a look of feigned innocence. "I suppose that depends on how much you're willing to pay to get it back."

"Dude, what the fuck?!" Clyde exclaimed. "You expect me to give you money for my own fucking phone?"

"It's the finder's fee…and how about we throw in another fee for being a stupid jock?"

"Those aren't fucking things! Just give me my damn phone back, Kenny! Stop being such a fucking prick!"

Kenny grinned mischievously as he held up Clyde's phone and dangled it in front of him. Clyde tried to swipe it out of his hands, but Kenny jumped back out of the way.

"One easy payment of fifty dollars and it can be yours…again." He was relishing in how upset Clyde was getting at such childish school yard tactics.

"You know what? Fine. I don't even need my phone. I can live without it," said Clyde. He turned around and started to slowly walk away.

"Doubt it," laughed Kenny. "What's with your ringtone, anyway? Unless that's a custom ringtone for whoever 'Black Thunder' is…in which case, I have several more questions."

Clyde continued to walk away, not seeming to be fazed by Kenny's prodding.

"Well then, since it's my phone now, let's see if there's any juicy pics on here. Perhaps some nudes I can send to everyone in the contact-"

Kenny barely had any time to react as he looked up to see Clyde charging toward hm. The wind was being knocked out of his lungs as he fell backwards, Clyde's arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him down to the ground with a thud. Clyde pried his phone from Kenny's grasp and rolled over to the side, quickly picking himself up off the grass. His breathing was tense as he shoved his phone into his pocket, quickly walking away.

"Asshole…" Clyde muttered to himself.

Kenny sat up and rubbed the back of his neck.

"What the fuck was _that_ all about?!"

Kenny turned his head to the side and saw that Tweek had caught up with them. He had a stunned look on his face, as did Jimmy and Kevin. That's when Kenny realized that the field had become oddly silent. He turned his head in the other direction and realized that the entire band was staring at him. He jumped up and brushed himself off. Grabbing his harness and placing it back over his head, he flashed a winning smile at his concerned peers.

"How about we make some music, you guys?"

He leaned over to pick up his drumsticks and made his way over to the warm-up area. Mr. Bunting silently mouthed _are you okay?_ at him. Kenny gave him a thumbs up in response. In reality, his neck and the back of his head was hurting from the impact, but he wasn't about to let anyone know that. Tweek and the rest of the drumline followed behind him, getting into position.

"Alright everyone, let's start with B flat major." Mr Bunting held his hands up in the air, lifting them up and dropping them into the first downbeat.

Once the music started, Jimmy and Kevin turned to each other.

"Sooo…" Jimmy started.

"Yeah. That was…weird."

"D-did you get any of that on camer-r-ra?"

"The whole thing."

"I mean, it's not news…but…with the sound taken away, maybe it could be used as B roll?"

"I don't know, but I'm definitely not deleting it. Worst case scenario, it would be perfect for the senior video during graduation. Sound included."

"You're kind of an evil ge-ge-ge-nius, Kev."

"Aww, thanks Jim," Kevin smirked.

They made their way up to the press box, where they spent the next half an hour filming the band during practice. Once they felt they had enough material, the two collected their equipment and started the walk back to Kevin's car. Once the gear was loaded into the back and they were both comfortably in the front seats, they decided to go grab some milkshakes from Shakey's.

"Our senior y-year," Jimmy stated. "Let's hope it goes out with a bang."


	2. Chapter One

Clyde hated the sound of his wake-up alarm. It was one of those grating noises that found a way to seep into your head, no matter how hard you slept. That was the point, of course, but he hated it nonetheless. His father had bought it for him since he had typically managed to sleep through all of the other alarms he tried using over the years. He lazily stuck his hand out, reaching for the snooze button. He had been having this awesome dream where he was macking on this super hot blonde chick and he had been _this close_ to sealing the deal when that damn alarm started. He wanted to get back into that dream, if only for a few minutes. Unfortunately for Clyde, his hand landed on an empty bedside table. He had forgotten that his father had moved the alarm to the other side of the room, hoping to put an end to his son's habit of oversleeping and being late for school.

Clyde groaned and reluctantly sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and scanned the room for the source of the alarm. Once he spotted it on his dresser, he made his way over his bureau and shut it off. Stretching his strong arms above his head, he yawned and groaned, tilting his head to the side and letting out a small yelp when he felt his neck crack.

This was it. The first day of senior year. His last year of high school. His last year to make an impression and really cement his legacy in this town. He had dreams of playing football for a Big Ten university. Maybe Northwestern? Ohio State? He didn't really care which school, that wasn't the important part, he just wanted to be a part of the legendary football conference. Plus, who knew? If he played well enough, he could even get drafted to a professional team, and then he'd be set for life. He wasn't so naive to think that it was a likely outcome, but he still loved to dream.

He made his way down the hallway into the bathroom. Since it was just him and his dad in the house nowadays, ever since his sister went off to college two years ago, Clyde didn't bother putting on pants in the morning when he went to get cleaned up. He stepped into the shower and turned the water up to the hottest level possible. He loved that burning sensation that was almost at the point of pain, but _just_ below that threshold. As he frantically lathered his hair, he belted out one of his mother's favorite songs.

" _It's a beautiful mornin'! Ahhh~! I think I'll go outside for a while…and just smile!"_

It had become a bit of a morning ritual to sing it as he was getting ready. He and his mother had had a strained relationship at times, but the years and a lot of reflection had helped Clyde focus more on the good memories than the bad. There was already enough bad in the world, why should he add to it with a negative outlook?

Once out of the shower, he brushed his teeth as he waited for the steam to disperse and the mirror to defog. He quickly lathered up his face with shaving cream and did as thorough a shaving job as possible, being careful not to cut himself. He would've skipped out and rocked a little bit of scruff on the first day, but he wanted to be nice and smooth just in case his dream was a premonition and there was a hot new student who wanted to get down waiting for him at school.

He shuffled back to his room and threw on the clothes he had picked out the night before. He had to make sure he looked his best for his last first day of high school. It never really mattered what kind of shirt he wore, however, as his beloved letterman jacket always went over it. Sweet new kicks tied tight and his school bag flung over his shoulder, he paused for a moment to look himself over in the full-length mirror. Adults would always say that the four years of high school are the best in your life. Clyde's had been awesome so far, but deep down he really hoped that those words weren't true. He didn't want to think this was the best he was ever going to get out of life. No one wants to feel that they peaked at seventeen. He brushed aside the negative thoughts and raked his fingers through his thick brown hair. No time to be worrying about that stuff now.

He leapt down the stairs, two at a time, and stopped in the kitchen to grab something for breakfast before he headed out. Mr. Donovan was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, a mug of fresh coffee by his side.

"Good morning, Clyde," he greeted without putting his paper down.

"Morning, dad." He opened the cabinet and his eyes lit up when he found a cookies and cream flavored protein bar inside. "Score!" he exclaimed as he collected the bar, shoving it into his jacket pocket.

"Hey Clyde, I'm going to need you to help out with the store tomorrow after school."

"Dad, you know I have practice every day."

"That's fine, just stop by after practice. I only really need help closing. There was a big order of shoes from the school and I'll just need an extra hand with the transaction. Someone's scheduled to pick them up right before we close at nine."

"Why so late?" Clyde asked.

"I don't know, son, I don't ask the customers about their personal lives, I just try to accommodate them the best I can so they'll continue to shop with us."

Clyde shrugged and headed for the door. "I'll be there dad, don't worry."

He climbed into the black 1998 Honda Accord that his dad had let him have when he finally bought a newer model the previous year. Sure, the car was older than him, but he had grown fond of it throughout his life, and was proud to be able to call it his own. He still called it by the name he bestowed on it when he was seven: E. Honda, after one of his favorite characters from Street Fighter 2. It certainly wasn't a fancy car and it had seen better days, but he didn't care. It gave him the freedom to go where he wanted to and it got a lot cooler just by him driving it. The fact that it only had two doors kind of sucked though. It was a bit of a boner killer to try to squeeze himself and a lady friend into the backseat for some old fashioned fun time in the car.

The drive to school was about twenty minutes. Park County High had been built in Middle Park so that it was about the same distance whether you were coming from North or South Park. Clyde didn't mind the drive. It was an opportunity to blast his music and sing at the top of his lungs. He didn't have a great voice, not by a long shot, but he would sing like his life depended on it. He flipped through the different top 40 stations programs on the car radio until he found something he liked.

 _"Party rock is in the house tonii~iight!"_

"Yeah! This is my fucking jam!" Clyde turned the radio up and began to rap along with the song. It was debatable whether or not his frenzied shouting counted as rap.

He pulled into the school's student parking lot and pulled up alongside Stan's slightly dented hatchback. He beeped the horn twice to get Stan to pull away from grinding up on Wendy long enough to acknowledge his presence.

"Get a room!" he called out through the open window.

Wendy leaned over, peeking out from behind Stan. "I don't think people our age really ever use that phrase!" she laughed.

"Ahh, fuck off, Wendy!"

"Hey! Don't tell my girlfriend to fuck off!" Stan finally turned around to scold his friend.

Wendy shook her head and turned her head to see Kyle and Heidi walking toward the school entrance. "I'll see you later at lunch, babe," Wendy said as she kissed Stan on the cheek. She gave a small wave and ran ahead to meet up with her friends.

"I'm sorry, bro, but does she have to correct me all the time? I'm a loose cannon, I'm not going to get everything right all the time." Clyde got out of his car, closed the door, and locked it.

"Dude, you're not a loose cannon, but you are a little dumb," Stan laughed.

"Hey! I take offense to that!" he replied, although he was laughing along with Stan.

Once they were in front of the school's main doors, Clyde stopped and took a deep breath.

"What's up, dude?" Stan asked.

"This is a big moment for me."

"Seriously?"

"Yes seriously! This is the last time that I'll walk through these doors on the first day of school. It's like…the beginning of the end of childhood."

"That's…kind of deep for you."

"I do love to go deep, Stan."

"I'm not sure if you're intentionally making that dirty or if you did it by accident."

"A little of both."

Stan clapped his hand on Clyde's back and they both pulled back on a door before entering the main lobby. They parted ways once the hall split into different directions. Clyde began to strut down the hallway as he headed for his locker. He could sense people's heads turning to watch him and he smiled. He loved being the center of attention. He gave out fist bumps to all of the guys who greeted him, and when girls said hi to him, he gave them a flirty wink and a finger gun. He finally made it to his locker, taking a few moments to remember his combination.

"Twenty-seven, four, eighteen."

Clyde jumped at the sudden voice right next to his ear. He turned to his left to find Craig leaning his back against the other lockers. He stared blankly at Clyde, waiting for him to open the lock.

"A simple hello would've been nice!" Clyde said as he composed himself.

"A simple thank you would've been nice, too," Craig returned in his classic nasally tone.

"Thank you…" Clyde muttered as he filled his locker with extra notebooks and his gym bag.

He pulled a few photos out of his backpack and taped them to the inside of the door. One was of this season's football team, with Stan, Token, and himself front and center. Another was a photo from when he and Bebe had dated. It had been taken at Casa Bonita on their first anniversary. Although things hadn't worked out for them romantically, Bebe still remained one of Clyde's closest friends, and this was their favorite picture together. As Bebe had so eloquently put it, they had looked 'fierce as fuck'. The final picture was from Craig's surprise sixteenth birthday party that Clyde had set up. In it, Clyde had his arm around Craig's shoulders and was pulling him in close, Clyde with a huge grin on his face and Craig rolling his eyes.

Clyde heard Craig chuckle beside him. "I love that one," he said, pointing to the picture of the two teens. "It like…perfectly sums up our friendship."

"Hell yeah, dude, that's why I'm putting it up! Whenever I'm having a cruddy day, I take a minute to look at my favorite people in the world and I remember what's really important."

"Ah, see? Why do you have to go and say sweet shit like that? You're ruining it!" Craig placed his hands on his stomach, feigning feeling sick.

"You love it, fucker."

Craig rolled his eyes again, smiling. "Wanna have lunch together later?" he asked, slowly walking backwards.

"Sounds good. See you then!"

Clyde closed the locker door and continued down to the end of the hall, where his homeroom was located. When he walked into the door, he saw most of the other students had the brand new issue of Super School News in their hot little hands. He smiled to himself, knowing he was on the front cover.

"He looks so hot in this photo," he heard one girl whisper to another.

"God yes, he can have me whenever and wherever he wants. I guess I'm going to have to start going to the football games," the second girl responded.

Clyde's smile grew bigger. The girls didn't look up from the newspaper to look at him, but he understood. The were so enraptured by his cover photo that they could barely notice anything else going on around them. He looked around the room for where they had picked up a copy from, and grabbed one himself once he caught sight of it. He sat down at his desk in the back corner and grinned as he unfolded the paper. There he was, in colorful glory, making a beautiful catch. His smile quickly wilted into a scowl as he realized that he wasn't the star of the front page that he thought he would be. There were two articles on the front page that were formatted to be side by side, one about the football team and one about the marching band. Right next to his photo was that of Kenny McCormick, sweaty and shirtless except for his snare drum and harness. Clyde snarled at the photo. This was blatant favoritism! Kenny's photo looked like it was supposed to be for some freaking sexy fireman charity calendar! Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration, as Kenny would never be able to eat the amount of calories and protein to get truly jacked, but his smaller frame, the cardio involved with marching, and all of the drums he had to carry had made his body lean and toned. Clyde wasn't out of shape by any means, but he was constantly aware of the fact that he didn't have six pack abs. Meanwhile this asshole basically has them, even if they're a watered down light beer version.

"Did you know he looked like this under all those loose band tees?" the first girl asked.

"Yeah, actually. I know a girl from the Drama Club who hooked up with him a few times last year," her friend answered.

"Lucky bitch."

"She said he was really good, and that she had wanted to start actually dating him, but when she asked him, he turned her down. I guess he's just a slut."

"Good to know. I don't want to date the guy, but I do need to add him to my senior year bucket list."

"Damn, me too."

Clyde crumpled the paper up and stuffed it into his backpack with a look of disdain. He crossed his arms and pouted, his mind stewing with jealous thoughts. How could Jimmy have made him share the cover with that douche? The same douche who tried to hustle him out of fifty bucks for his own fucking phone. Did Jimmy think that Kenny was at the same level as Clyde? Was Kenny really as popular with the general school population as he was? What the hell did Kenny do to deserve _that_ level of recognition? He was just a fucking drummer in the marching band. Who cared about them? People came to football games for the _football_. During halftime, people just got up to take a piss or get some snacks…right? That's what he'd always believed, but he was always in the locker room getting a mid-game pep talk during halftime, so he really didn't know how good the marching band was or whether people paid attention to them or not. Whatever. It didn't matter. Either way, this was still bullshit.

Clyde barely paid attention when the homeroom teacher entered and began to take attendance. She knew the group of kids well enough where she just saw him grumbling to himself in the corner and checked off his name. Eventually the bell rang and by reflex, Clyde picked up his bag and migrated to his first class.

By lunchtime, he was still bristling. Craig stared at Clyde as they ate their food by their favorite tree. Students weren't generally allowed outside during lunch, but the teacher who supervised their lunch period was a huge fan of the school's football team and would let Clyde get away with small rule violations. Clyde was chewing his roast beef sandwich rather loudly, and it was beginning to get on Craig's nerves.

"Okay, you need to cut that shit out. It's annoying."

Clyde swallowed his mouthful and washed it down with a chocolate protein shake. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"What the fuck crawled up your ass since the last time I saw you? You seemed so happy this morning."

"I _was_ happy! But then that stupid newspaper!" He let out a cry of frustration.

Craig's eyes widened with stunned confusion. "Do you mean Super School News? I read some of it today. It was pretty good. Your photo on the front page was a good one. You didn't look stupid at all."

" _The front page_ …" Clyde growled.

"Woah. Okay buddy, you need to give me more information here cause you're acting like you've been wronged in the worst possible way. I really don't see what was wrong with the picture…"

"Kenny fucking McCormick was on the cover too, Craig! That arrogant asshole!"

"Kenny? Arrogant? I don't know, he always seemed pretty chill to me."

"You're just saying that because you used to have sex with him!"

"Used to? When did I ever say I stopped?"

Clyde's eyes bugged out slightly and his nostrils flared with rising fury.

"Jesus Christ, Clyde! I'm kidding! We haven't hooked up in a long time. Still, he's always been nice to me. I haven't hung out with him in a while though. After seeing that photo in the newspaper though, I might see what he's doing this weekend…"

"Craig!"

Craig laughed and ruffled his easily riled up friend's soft brown hair. "You're way too easy to fuck with, man. And you make it really fun. Has anyone ever told you that you're cute when you're pissed off?"

Clyde frowned and folded his arms. "No! And I'm not fucking cute! Cute is for puppies! And chicks don't want to bang a dude who's like a puppy!"

"If you say so. You'd know more about them than I would."

Clyde huffed and took another swig of his shake. "McCormick is always a prick to me. Did I tell you that he was the one who answered my phone the other day and then tried to get me to pay him a goddamn finder's fee to get it back?"

"No. But that's pretty funny."

" _It's not fucking funny_!" Clyde screamed and pounded his fists onto his thighs.

Craig grinned and gently shook his head. "So angry, yet so cute. I just want to pinch your cheeks and have you sit in my lap."

Clyde stood up with the remainder of his lunch and stomped away back into the school. Craig was obviously biased toward Kenny and couldn't see the truth about him. He had his 'used to bang' glasses on, and those could be notoriously blurry. He needed to vent to someone who'd understand. Someone who enjoyed hearing the latest gossip and liked to talk trash every now and again. He needed Bebe.

"Based off this photo, I agree with Craig. Ten out of ten, would definitely bang," she said, holding up the school newspaper in front of her.

"Bebe! Not you, too!" Clyde dropped his head onto his desk before class started. He'd somehow managed to make it through the rest of the day, and he only had English class to get through before he could go to practice and try to salvage this horrible day.

"I guess I just don't see what has you so upset, babe. You both look really good! Jimmy managed to get a clear shot of you in the air while you made the catch. It kind of looks like you're flying. That's totally cool!"

"I _know_ it's cool, but…"

"But? What's the underlying problem, Clyde?"

" _I_ was supposed to be the star on the front page, Bebe! Just me! Or if it wasn't just me, then me, Stan, and Token! None of this marching band shirtless Kenny bullshit! I like being the big man on campus. The one every guy wants to be and every girl wants to take for a test drive, if you know what I mean."

Bebe shook her head in disbelief. "So…this is just some sort of superiority-inferiority complex thing? Come on Clyde, I thought you were better than this."

"It's not…I don't…I don't think I'm better than everyone…just… _him_."

"And why is that?" she asked, resting her chin in her hand.

"Cause he's a fucking douchebag, I don't know!" He rubbed his hands on his face.

"It sounds to me like you need to figure out something that's going to help you get over this." Bebe glanced up at the front of the class. "I think we're about to start. Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah…I'll be fine…"

Clyde didn't pay any attention during English class. He appeared to be focused on this year's syllabus, but in actuality, his mind was fixated on what Bebe had said. _You need to figure out something that's going to help you get over this_. Yes. Something that will show who the alpha is in Park County High. Something that will definitively show that Clyde Donovan is light-years better than Kenny McCormick. Clyde needed to beat Kenny at his own game.

At the end of class, Bebe lingered next to Clyde's desk. "Do you want to walk down to the locker rooms together?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice. I have to make a quick stop at my locker first to grab my practice bag."

When they arrived at Clyde's locker, Craig was already waiting for them.

"What are you staying after school for?" Clyde asked.

"We already have an assignment for Studio Art. I'm gonna watch the teams practice and try to sketch some action shots, since that's my biggest weakness."

"That's cool." Clyde removed his bag, swung it over his shoulder, and closed the locker door.

On the walk to the athletics side of the school, dozens of students complimented Clyde on the newspaper article. Many of them were female fans who flirtatiously squeezed on his shoulder or firm bicep as he went by. He gave them a _thanks_ with a wink, but it was half-hearted at best. His mind was preoccupied with one person and it couldn't seem to fully perceive the affection he was receiving. They continued down the crowded hallways full of chatting students until they saw a particular large crowd of women blocking the path up ahead.

"What the hell is going on here?" asked Craig.

"I have no clue," Clyde responded.

As they got closer, they could hear a male voice cutting over the higher pitched female voices.

"Ladies, ladies! There's enough of me to go around, don't you worry about that," the voice laughed.

"Ugh!" Clyde groaned. "What the fuck, move out of the way, please! People are trying to get to practice on time, thanks!"

The sea of women split, many turning to see who was trying to get through and fangirling when they realized that it was Clyde. It was the reaction he would normally love, but he was too upset to enjoy it. Once the crowd had begun to scatter, Clyde saw who was at the center.

" _McCormick_ ," he growled.

"Donovan," Kenny smirked. "Nice photo, by the way."

Clyde grit his teeth. Kenny knew just how to get under his skin. "Stop being a dick, McCormick! Please move aside so I won't be late!"

"No really! It was actually a nice photo. Also I'm not the one making you late, dude."

"You just can't quit, can you? Fine! We're going to settle this once and for all!"

Everyone standing around Clyde, including Kenny, had confused looks plastered onto their faces. Clyde dropped his bag onto the floor and pulled open the zipper. He rummaged through until he found one of his football gloves. Standing back up, glove firmly in his grasp, he marched right up to Kenny. He looked down at the shorter man, his lips pursed tightly into a frown. He held up the glove and slapped Kenny with it across his right cheek. The looks of confusion grew bigger as Clyde stepped back, his head held high and hands firmly on his hips.

"I challenge you to a duel, sir!"


	3. Chapter Two

Kenny stared at the taller man in front of him, dressed in that stupid fucking letterman jacket. He raised his left eyebrow in question. He had just been smacked in the face with a smelly football glove for no apparent reason other than that he might have made Clyde a _little_ late for football practice.

"What the fuck was that all about?" he asked rather calmly, despite the growing frustration in his gut. "Are you fucking serious, Donovan? A _duel_? What are you, from the seventeen hundreds?"

"No, but I got your goddamn attention, didn't I? Yes. I'm challenging you to a duel, you prick." The crowd of female admirers had thinned out completely, leaving Kenny, Clyde, Craig, and Bebe alone in the empty hallway. "Or if it makes you feel better, a challenge, a bet, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Something to decide once and for all who the top dog is at this school."

"Dude, I don't really give a shit about all that. Also it's really hilarious that you _do_ care. Let me guess, you have your satin panties in a bunch because you thought you were going to be the only one of the front cover of the school newspaper?"

Clyde flinched, not having expected Kenny to read him so accurately.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Kenny snickered. "So what is this bet you're proposing, big guy?"

Clyde's lips pursed at Kenny's statement. He was a big guy, but he always took any reference to his height and overall large frame as a fat joke, no matter the context. He had worked for a long time to become healthier and lose a lot of the extra weight that he had carried as a child, but he was still sensitive to those sort of comments. He leaned down so that he could look Kenny square in the eyes.

"Obviously it wouldn't be fair to expect you to try to catch a football or me to play the drums, so I suggest that we compete on something we're both good at."

Kenny smirked and crossed his arms, actually curious about what Clyde had in mind. Before he could get his answer, however, Tweek came running over to Kenny's side.

"Hey man, you weren't in the band room, so I came to look for you." He looked at Clyde, whose face was uncomfortably close to Kenny's, and gave him a hard glare before cracking his knuckles. "Is there a problem here?" He narrowed his eyes and bit down on his lip ring. He struck a surprisingly imposing figure despite his small stature.

"Nah, Tweek, no problem. Sorry I took so long. I was stopped by a lot of female fans a few minutes ago."

"Of _course_ you fucking were," Tweek said, rolling his eyes at his friend. "Ready to go then?"

"Yeah."

Kenny placed his right hand on the small of Tweek's back as they began to head in the direction of the band room. He turned to glance behind him and smirked at Clyde, lifting up his left hand over his shoulder and flipping him off. He could hear Clyde let out an irritated cry as he and Tweek rounded the corner.

"So…" Tweek began. "Seriously, what the fuck was that all about?" His hands were shoved in the pockets of his low slung jeans, his sneakers scuffing along the floor making a terrible squeaking sound.

"I was flirting with a bunch of girls and apparently that pissed off Clyde. He's jealous, plain and simple. He's been the big fucking hero of this school for two years and he feels threatened that I'm getting a little bit of coverage in the school paper. I mean, Jesus Christ, it's not like it's Rolling Stone magazine or some shit."

"Granted I haven't really hung out with Clyde at all since I moved back here, but he always seemed like a nice dude. Like, I haven't heard anyone say a bad thing about him…other than I guess he can be kinda dumb."

"Kinda? That's the understatement of the fucking year." Kenny glanced over at Tweek, then back in front of him. "And he's not a nice dude. He's a jackass."

Tweek gave Kenny the side eye and smirked. "If you say so. Still, you seem to care more about him being jealous of you than you want to admit."

"I'm more entertained by it than anything. It's really funny to see him so pissed off."

"Now _that_ seems like something a jackass would say."

"Hey, who's friend are you?" Tweek raised his hands up in surrender. He started to grind his teeth, one of the anxious behaviors he had obtained while he was away from South Park.

"Dude, your jaw," Kenny pointed out. He sighed and continued. "I guess I'm still on edge since he slapped me across the face with his freaking football glove."

"What?" Tweek laughed. "Why the fuck did he do that?!"

"Yup, laugh it up, spaz. He said he challenged me to a duel. A contest of something that we're both good at, but he never said what. That's when you showed up. I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Maybe it never will. Maybe he'll wake up tomorrow and be over it. Like you said, it's a stupid thing to be jealous over."

"This is Clyde we're talking about. He is highly emotional and he doesn't really let things go. This isn't the end."

They entered the noisy band room and went directly to the drum closet to retrieve their instruments. Tweek leaned over to Kenny and spoke into his ear. "I think I'm going to need a cigarette after practice, how about you?"

"Yeah…yeah I could use one today."

* * *

Wisps of silver smoke danced up into the cool night air. Kenny and Tweek were leaning against the side of Kenny's banged up truck having yet another rousing discussion on who the greatest drummers of all time were in between drags. Every other band student had left already and the parking lot was mostly empty.

"What about Phil Collins?" Tweek asked. "Genesis was pretty cool in a super eighties prog rock way."

"Dude, fuck Phil Collins. After he insulted Timmy and played that crap show here when we were in third grade, he's on my permanent shit list." Kenny took a long drag and slowly exhaled as he scanned the stars above.

"Oh man! I totally forgot about that!"

"'Land of Confusion' is still a killer song, though," Kenny admitted

They stood in silence for a moment before they noticed someone approaching them from the school entrance. When the figure got close enough, they realized it was Mr. Bunting, their band director.

"Hey guys, you're still around?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah! And not at all doing things that are technically still illegal for a few more months…"

Tweek panicked, quickly dropped his cigarette onto the pavement and grinding it with his foot. Mr. Bunting paid no mind to him as the twitchy tics he'd worked so hard to hide began to rear their ugly faces. Mr. Bunting was here for Kenny.

"Is this your truck, McCormick?"

"Yessir. She's old, barely runs, and gets shit mileage, but she's all mine," Kenny replied. He looked fondly at the rusty grey pickup. It was one of his few possessions in this world, and he had worked his butt off to earn it.

"Great! I was wondering if you could be me a huge favor."

"Shoot."

"The shipment of new marching shoes finally came in and they need to be picked up tomorrow night. My car is unfortunately in the shop right now and the rental they gave me is far too small to fit them all. I scheduled the pick-up for quarter to nine because I figured it'd be quietest before the mall closes and the process would be less of a hassle for the store."

"Yeah, Mr. B, I could do that for you. I'll be leaving work around then anyway. I can swing over to the mall before I go home."

"Excellent! Thank you so much, Kenneth. I really appreciate it."

Mr. Bunting nodded at the two boys and went off to find his rental car.

"Do you want me to come with you to help?" asked Tweek.

"Nah, I think I'll be fine."

* * *

Kenny pulled up to the mall entrance and put his truck in park. The lot was pretty empty. It made sense that not many people would still be shopping this close to nine on a Wednesday night. His steps echoed as he walked through the barren mall. A small grin sprouted on his face. An empty mall like this would be a lot of fun to drum in. Sure the sound quality would be terrible given that the mall is not designed for acoustic purposes, but the idea of filling this entire space with noise gave him goosebumps.

He rode up the escalator, holding back the intense urge to try riding up the handrail since no one was around to scold him. He shuffled through the concourse until he reached his destination.

Toe Jams. That was the name of the shoe store. Kenny tittered, trying to cover it with a cough. No one was around to hear him, but he didn't want to take the risk of anyone knowing that he thought the stupid name was kind of funny. Upon entering, he saw that it was empty.

"Hello? Hey, is there anyone in here?

He approached the cash register and hit the bell a few times. Pacing around the front of the store, he looked at a few of the shoes on display. He could use a new pair of sneakers, but the prices were absurd. He'd been getting used sneakers from thrift stores his whole life and they were good enough for him.

He heard a voice approaching him from behind.

"Hi, sorry about that. How can I help you?"

Kenny turned around and his face contorted in disgust.

"Ugh, it's you. I forgot your dad owned this place," he groaned.

Clyde rolled his eyes. "I don't really want to be here either, but I'm doing a favor for my dad." He crossed his arms. "What the fuck do you need, dude? Are you going to try to steal some new shoes for your family or something?"

Kenny narrowed his eyes. "Don't start with me, Donovan. I'm here to pick up an order for the marching band. I was told to come here right before close."

"Oh. That. Wait here…and don't steal anything."

Clyde disappeared toward the back of the store, leaving Kenny alone again. "Just for that, asshole…" he muttered before grabbing a pair of socks off a sidekick display and stuffing them into his parka pocket.

Clyde left Kenny waiting for a few minutes before he and his father returned with two flatbed hand trucks stacked with shoe boxes.

"The payment was made in advance, so all you need to do is take the shoes," Mr. Donovan explained.

"Good cause Mr. Bunting didn't give me any money for them and I'm broke," Kenny laughed.

"That's not news, dumbass," Clyde snarked.

"Hey!" Mr. Donovan lightly smacked his son on the back of the head. "Apologize to the customer and help him load these up. You can go straight home, I'll close up and finish the books."

Clyde mumbled something unintelligible, his head facing toward the floor. His father loudly cleared his throat, an obvious sign to try his apology again. Clyde lifted his head and scowled at a smirking Kenny.

"I am sorry for my remarks, sir. Please allow me to assist you with your purchase."

"That's better. I'll see you at home, son."

"Thanks, Mr. D!" Kenny called out, only to turn around and see that Clyde was already quickly moving down the concourse. "Hey! Wait for me, fucker!"

He moved as quickly as he could without causing the stacks of shoes to fall over. When he finally caught up with Clyde, he noticed his brow was furrowed and his cheeks were flushed.

"Are you really that pissed?" he asked.

"Yes," Clyde snarled. "I'm super embarrassed by my dad when he's in full on business mode, AND I'm pissed that he forced me to apologize to your stupid face."

"Hey man, I'm sorry. It's all in good fun."

Clyde stopped abruptly and turned to Kenny to present him with his middle finger. "You can shove this up your ass, McCormick."

"So how are we getting these to the ground level, anyway?" Kenny asked, dropping the issue and changing the subject.

"Freight elevator." Clyde pointed up ahead at a dimly lit narrow hallway that branched off the main concourse.

Upon reaching their destination, Clyde fiddled with the keys to work the elevator. Once inside, the massive door closed with a thud and the elevator began its excruciatingly slow decent. They stood in uncomfortable silence. Neither one wanted to be in there with the other. Kenny thought about how it would be just his luck if the elevator were to suddenly break down and they were stuck in there together the entire night. One of them would probably end up dead by the end of that scenario. That or they'd end up having sex with each other, but the death thing seemed more likely. He leaned against the wall and began to drum his fingers against the hard surface. The sounds echoed within the metal chamber. The longer it went on, the more he got into it and the louder it became.

 _"Will you stop that?!"_

Kenny abruptly stopped his drumming for a moment. He stared into Clyde's deep brown eyes and started to drum again, this time slapping the walls loudly with the palms of his hands. The elevator granted mercy on the two young men as it finally reached the first floor. Clyde grabbed his cart and bolted out, eager to get this over and done. Kenny followed, having to walk faster than Clyde in order to keep up with his long strides.

"That's your truck over there, right?" Clyde asked as soon as they walked through the main entrance.

"Yeah."

They approached the vehicle and Kenny put a foot on one of the back tires, hoisting himself up and over the side into the truck bed. He reached out his arm toward Clyde and motioned for him to start handing up the boxes. The sound of fingers against thin cardboard and the creaking of the truck as Kenny moved around filled the night air. There was an unspoken tension building between the two of them as they worked.

"So this 'duel' you mentioned," Kenny said, breaking the tension and the silence. "Jesus Christ, I don't even know why I'm asking this…" He sighed before continuing. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Oh, _now_ you're interested?" Clyde paused in the middle of handing Kenny a shoebox, pulling it away from his grasp.

"Look, just fucking tell me what your idea was, okay?" Kenny reached forward and grabbed the box from Clyde. "Quit trying to be coy."

"Like I had said yesterday…it has to be something we're both good at to make things fair." Clyde held up another three boxes.

"Stands to reason," Kenny replied as he took them and placed them down.

"So I challenge you to a fuck-off."

Kenny turned and faced Clyde, his hands placed on his hips. "I get why you want a piece of this, but uh, you're not really my type."

"Goddammit, McCormick! I mean we see who can fuck the most people in a semester! By winter break, whoever has had more unique partners wins. Done. Easy."

"What about cheating? Like how will I be able to know that you're not lying? You'd probably try saying you had foursomes every weekend!"

Clyde sighed and returned to handing Kenny the shoeboxes. "We'll get two people to be our seconds. Two people we trust to keep track of our scores-" Clyde let out a short chuckle at his lame pun "-and keep us honest. I have someone in mind already, and I'll let you pick the other one. If you're really serious about this, how about we meet somewhere tomorrow night and we can discuss the rules so we're both in agreement."

"That's not a lot of time to find someone, but fine. Tweek Bros at seven then."

"Why Tweek Bros?"

"I feel comfortable there. Also if you piss me off, I'll have Tweek throw hot coffee in your face."

"I hate you, McCormick."

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

* * *

Kenny never needed an alarm to wake up for school. No matter how late he stayed up, he always woke up in his bed at six in the morning. It was a curse, of sorts. As much as he always wished he could sleep in, his body never seemed to grant him that courtesy. Still, it had its benefits, as it allowed him to get ready and assist Karen with getting ready for school. As a fourteen year old freshman in high school, one would think that she wouldn't need much assistance with getting ready, but _she_ had the amazing ability to sleep through every alarm known to humankind.

Kenny blinked his eyes open, squinting at the beam of morning sunlight that seemed to be aiming directly at his eyes like it was purposely trying to piss him off. He groaned as he kicked off his thin blanket and sat up, the springs of his ancient bed frame squeaking under the shifting weight. He yawned and scratched his messy blond hair, deciding that it was in need of a washing. He dragged himself out of his room and to the bathroom, carefully stepping over the sleeping bodies of his mother and father. They had gotten into it again last night, but thankfully they had both passed out before any real damage could be done.

Kenny looked at himself in the slightly cracked mirror. He smiled at himself, rubbing his tongue on the slight gap between his two front teeth. It'd always bothered him growing up, but he never admitted to it. Why bother complaining about something he knew his family couldn't afford to fix? He didn't mind it nowadays, as girls seemed to think it was cute. So did boys.

He moved to turn on the shower faucet, only to find that only a few sad drips of water came out when it was supposed to be on full blast. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Of course his parents hadn't paid the water bill this month. He had told his dad to put the money aside for the monthly bills when he came home with the cash he'd received from working under the table for a local contractor, but clearly Stuart either hadn't listened or didn't care. Kenny decided he'd just have to sneak into the boys locker room at some point during the school day to get his shower. He trudged back to his room, this time not caring as much if he woke up the entire household.

Now dressed in old torn up jeans and a Zildjian t-shirt he'd gotten for free, he grabbed his things for school and went to wake up Karen. He had a few ways that he liked to wake her, but his favorite was tickling her feet whenever they were stuck out from under her blanket. The action simultaneously made her giggle uncontrollable and made her furious. He felt it was the perfect big brother thing to do. Karen woke up with a fit of laughter and kicks in Kenny's general direction.

Once Karen was ready to go, they jumped into Kenny's truck and, after several attempts to get the engine started, drove to school. Their trips to and from school were one of Kenny's favorite times of the day. He didn't get to see Karen nearly as much as he'd like now that they were older, due to marching band, his part-time job, and the fact that she was eager to join the art club. The drive to school was his time to hear about what was going on in her life - her problems, her successes, her friends. He typically stayed on the quieter side, listening and letting her talk animatedly about anything and everything. She had started to become attracted to other people over the summer, and today's discussion was about how cute everyone was in high school.

"And Kenny! _Kenny!_ Have you noticed how pretty all the cheerleaders are? They're all like goddesses! I saw some of the pictures in the school newspaper and it's unreal! I wish I could be as pretty as they are!"

"You are beautiful, Karen," he replied, briefly turning his head to smile at her.

"You _have_ to say that because I'm your sister!" she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"That's not big brother law. I don't _have_ to say it."

"Wait…there are big brother laws?" Karen's eyes widened in bewilderment.

Kenny laughed at his sister, who still had some of her naiveté from childhood. "No, that's not actually a thing. I'm just sayin' that I'm not complimenting you because I have to. I truly think that you are becoming a beautiful young woman and I want you to believe that yourself someday."

"You must have bad eyesight then cause I've seen myself in the mirror, Kenny."

"Nah, that's puberty you're seeing, and it's a bitch."

"Anyway! Your photo in the paper was pretty cool, too! All of my friends were telling me how lucky I am to have a hot brother, but that's just gross! You know who _is_ hot though? That Clyde guy. He's, like, really good at football, isn't he? I can't wait to go to the game on Friday! I bet his butt looks really good in his uniform!"

Kenny bit his bottom lip and kept his mouth shut. He wasn't going to let his feelings get in the way of being a good sibling.

"By the way, didn't you guys used to be really good friends? I haven't seen you hang out with him in a really long time."

Kenny sighed deeply. "Yeah. We were. Let's just say we have a…" He ran his tongue across his upper teeth while he tried to find the right words to not worry her. "…strained relationship nowadays."

"What happened?"

"Hey, when did our drives become the 'Let's grill Kenny' hour? Can't a guy have some secrets?"

"Fine, fine. Geez, why do you feel the need to be so mysterious sometimes? It doesn't make you any cooler." She playfully stuck her tongue out at him, and he reciprocated.

They arrived at the school, managing to pull into a parking space moments before the engine stalled.

* * *

Fourth period was Kenny's haven. Jazz band. It took place right after lunch, not that he ever really ate anything, and it split up his day. He got to spend the period hanging out with Tweek and trading off on the drum kit between songs. Whenever he was able to sit on that low stool, the balls of his feet resting on the drum pedals, slender wooden sticks between his fingers, he went into a state of pure bliss. When he played, his mind was only focused on the music. Any bullshit from school or home disappeared during those moments, only returning once the bell rung. Sometimes he'd get so wrapped up in the music that Tweek would have to shake his shoulder to get his attention when it was time to switch.

Today was one of those times.

"Hey. Hey K. Hey _asshole_!" Tweek laughed as he frantically shook Kenny's shoulder. "Snap out of whatever fucking trance you're in!"

"Huh? Oh shit, sorry man."

He slid off of the stool and sat in the chair that Tweek had been sitting in. From their perch off to the side of the band room, Kenny could look out at his peers. He enjoyed watching the rest of the band play when it was Tweek's turn on the drums. He had never really gotten to know a lot of the other players on a strong personal level, but he had superficially friendly relationships with all of them. Kenny liked to keep his close friendships few and nurture them so they'll last, rather than have dozens of casual friendships that will most likely vanish as soon as graduation ends. Other than Tweek, he really only had two other solid friendships in the jazz band.

Kyle was sitting with near perfect performance posture, wailing on his trumpet during a particularly feisty section of the song they were sight-reading. Of course he was sitting with performance posture. He was still a bit pretentious about some things now that he was older, this being one of them. Thankfully he had never broken out into a speech about the benefits of good posture to Kenny when he caught him slouching. Kyle didn't break out into speeches much ever since the entire town called him out on it back in fourth grade. He tried to save them for things of extreme importance.

Heidi was sitting a few chairs down, struggling a bit with the sight-reading on her trombone. She had picked up the instrument for the first time last spring and she was still getting the hang of it. She had wanted to join the jazz band for her senior year, but they traditionally didn't take clarinets as most arrangements didn't call for them. She learned trombone on the suggestion of Mr. Bunting, who had given her a few free lessons to get started. After that, she had learned by teaching herself. It was fairly impressive. Kenny never understood how people could remember all those fingerings and positions and whatnot.

Kenny stared at the two of them. Would they make good allies in this stupid contest? Would Kenny be able to rely on them to get him dirt on Clyde and make sure that bastard wasn't lying about the people he hooked up with? Probably not. Kyle would roll his eyes at the whole thing, which Kenny didn't blame him for, and he'd probably spend the entire time telling Kenny how stupid of an idea it is. He was out. Heidi would probably be a good confidant, but she would never agree to something like this. She wasn't really a fan of hook-up culture and she had told Kenny once that she wanted to wait to lose her virginity until she was in a really serious relationship. He often wondered why she was even friends with him, but she had explained that she didn't care if others engaged in casual intimacy, but it wasn't for her. Kenny had had to hide his laughter at the word intimacy. There was rarely anything intimate about his trysts.

Kenny returned his gaze to the drum set as the song completed. Tweek was spinning his drumsticks between his long, slender fingers - a trick that Kenny had taught him, but he had perfected. Tweek was Kenny's closest companion and Kenny knew that he could trust him, but…Kenny's brain went immediately to the sheer amount of stress and anxiety that such a request would create for Tweek. He wasn't about to do that to his friend.

After class, Kenny wandered the hallway to his next class. He didn't want to show up to Tweek Bros tonight without anyone by his side. As stupid has this whole thing was, he wasn't about to give Clyde the upper hand right out of the gate. He nodded to his old childhood friends as he passed them by, considering each for the important position. Jimmy? Nah, he'd probably use the whole experience as source material for his stand-up routine. Wendy? She'd just tell him how this contest was just another example of the patriarchy and male privilege since guys aren't called sluts if they have a lot of sex. She'd be right, but he really didn't want to deal with that all semester. Maybe Butters? He's a trustworthy friend…but he's also a virgin and Kenny wasn't about to sully Butters' innocence by making him a part of this. Finding someone to be his second was proving to be more difficult than he'd thought.

Kenny entered the classroom for his fifth period and his eyes finally fell on the perfect candidate. He sat down at the desk next to them and explained everything. The person face palmed, but ultimately agreed to help. Yes. This was perfect.

Kenny couldn't wait to see the expression on Clyde's stupid face.


	4. Chapter Three

Clyde and Bebe strolled along the sidewalk as they headed downtown. It was a fairly clear night. The perfect kind of weather for a pleasant stroll with friends. However, this was no time for a casual stroll with your best female friend. This was a time for business, and Clyde was a man on a mission.

"Remind me again why I let you drag me into this nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense, Bebe. This is something that will affect the entire course of history!" said Clyde.

"Don't you think that's awfully hyperbolic?" asked Bebe.

"Haha, nice try, Bebe. That's not even a real word!"

Bebe pursed her lips together to contain her laughter. She sighed. "Okay then, remind me again why I'm your friend?"

"Because I'm cute," he replied with a charming smile.

"Dammit, you got me there," she smiled back, reaching up to ruffle his hair. He gladly leaned over so that she could do so.

They stopped in front of Tweek Bros, checking out the new design. The entire storefront was made of glass, which radiated an open, inviting atmosphere, but did little for the privacy of the patrons inside. The fluorescent lights inside were bright enough to light up a good chunk of the street. They both squinted their eyes while peering inside. Kenny had not arrived yet.

"You know, I haven't actually visited this place since it re-opened," Clyde admitted.

"Really? Their coffee tastes a lot better now. I never liked it here before. It tasted…weird. I usually just went to Harbucks," said Bebe.

Clyde opened the glass door for Bebe and smiled as he bowed slightly at the waist. "After you, m'lady." He gestured to the open door with his free hand.

"You're such a nerd," she laughed. "If only all of your adoring fans could see you right now."

"Don't say that, Bebe! My status is already on the decline!"

She sighed, but kept her mouth shut. It was useless to try to tell Clyde that his concerns about his 'status' were all in his head.

Walking through the open door, they could hear the faint strains of what sounded like the singing of Michael Bolton. Tweek was facing the back wall, wiping down the equipment. He had a pair of bluetooth earbuds dangling from his ears, the muffled sound of pounding drums and screeching guitars coming from within. Bebe raised an eyebrow in his direction. She had never been close to Tweek when they were children, and she had never really interacted with him since he moved back. Still, she never would have expected this sort of behavior from him. In elementary school he seemed spastic and perhaps a bit disturbed, but now he seemed…kind of cool. It was amazing how much someone could change in a few years.

Clyde came up from behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Does he know we're here?"

"I don't think so. He obviously can't hear us through the music."

"I'd yell to get his attention, but I don't want to piss him off. McCormick threatened that he'd get Tweek to throw hot coffee in my face. I'm not willing to take that risk. I'm cute, but not cute enough to survive a full face burn."

Bebe shook her head. "So you're saying you want me to get his attention?"

"Yes. That is what I am saying."

"You're lucky I love you, dork." She took a deep breath and yelled as loudly as she could. "TWEEK!"

Tweek popped one of the buds out of his ear and turned around, nodding his head when he saw Clyde and Bebe.

"Oh hey, sorry about that."

He reached into his apron and pulled out his phone, pausing the music, then depositing it and the earbuds back into the pouch.

"Are you allowed to listen to headphones while you work?" asked Bebe.

"Nah, but it's what keeps me from going apeshit on everyone. If you had to listen to this every night," he pointed up at the speaker on the ceiling above his head, "you'd go crazy, too. The owners picked out the songs on the house mix."

"Aren't the owners your parents?" Clyde asked, confused.

"It hasn't been confirmed yet that I'm not adopted. So what can I get for you?"

Clyde ordered a hot chocolate, Bebe a skinny cappuccino, and the pair moved to a spot in the far corner of the room. They were going to be discussing highly sensitive information. If word of Clyde and Kenny's competition got out, it would be the end of it. No one would want to have sex with them if they knew it was just for points in a silly contest.

It was only a couple minutes before Kenny pushed through the glass door, alone. He stopped at the counter and quietly spoke to Tweek for a moment, never turning back to look at their table. Clyde then noticed through the glass storefront that Craig passing by the cafe.

"Hey, it's Craig!" he said, smiling and pointing outside. "I wonder where he's going."

Clyde didn't have to wait long for an answer. Craig stopped at the door and hesitated briefly before opening it and walking inside.

"Hi Craig!" Clyde called out cheerfully.

It sure was a coincidence that his best friend decided to come out to Tweek Bros on a Thursday night at the same time that Clyde was going to be meeting with Kenny and his second.

Craig didn't respond. Instead, he approached Kenny and gave him a nod. Kenny turned to Craig and smiled. He placed his right hand on the small of Craig's back and the two began to walk to the back table, a devious grin plastered across Kenny's face. Craig, although often difficult to read, looked clearly sheepish. He couldn't even look his best friend in the eyes. Clyde didn't realize what this all meant until they were halfway across the room.

"JUDAS!" Clyde yelled, jumping up from his seat and pointing his finger at Craig.

"Clyde, sit down. You're being overly dramatic," Bebe sighed. She tugged at his jacket, trying to pull him back down.

"I'm sorry, dude. I don't even really know what this shit is about, but I knew you'd be pissed," Craig mumbled. He pulled out a chair and plopped himself in it.

"Then why did you agree to help this jackass?" Clyde whined, finally returning to his seat.

"Kenny said he needed help with a project he was working on that involved you, but he promised it wasn't anything bad, and then…then he looked at me _that_ way with those fucking blue eyes and he bit his lower lip and…" Craig looked away and shifted in his chair.

"Dammit Craig! Stop thinking with your dick!" exclaimed Clyde.

"Isn't this whole stupid contest about thinking with your dicks?" Bebe snidely remarked, her chin resting in her hand.

"No!" Kenny and Clyde yelled simultaneously.

"This is about proving who is the number one guy in the school!" Clyde shouted.

"This is about crushing Donovan at his own stupid game so that he leaves me the fuck alone," said Kenny.

"Can someone just explain what the fuck this is about, please?" Craig sighed.

"I challenged Kenny to a semester long contest to see who can have sex with the most people." Clyde crossed his arms and had a proud look on his face.

Craig stared blankly at his friend. "You're kidding, right? Please be kidding."

"They're not," Bebe muttered.

"So why are you dragging me and Bebe into this?"

"We need two people to be the score-keepers and to keep us honest. Who's to say that McCormick won't just _say_ that he had sex with three people over the weekend? How can we know that he's not a liar?" Clyde explained.

"That's right," Kenny continued. "Bebe, you have your finger on the pulse of girl culture at the school. You always know the latest gossip and how to see through the bullshit. So if Donovan says he had an orgy with the girl's soccer team, you will be able to prove that he's lying. My sexy friend here," Craig sunk lower into his chair, "has the sharpest gay-dar I've ever seen. Not that I'd lie about who I have sex with, but for transparency's sake, Craig can be able to tell if a guy has slept with me. He knows what it feels like the next morning."

Kenny grinned. Craig blushed. Clyde gagged. Bebe wanted to know the details.

"Hey assholes, your drinks are here!"

Tweek placed down a circular tray with four ceramic mugs on it. He handed Clyde and Bebe their orders, then placed two lattes in front of Kenny and Craig. Craig looked up at Tweek, his cheeks still tinted rose.

"I didn't order whatever the fuck this is," he remarked.

"Yeah, I know. Kenny ordered for you. He's a dick like that." He smiled at his friend.

Craig looked down at the hot creamy beverage. There was a heart drawn into the thin layer of white foam.

"What's with this gay looking heart?" Craig asked, eyebrow raised.

"I've been trying out latte art as a way to pass the time around here," Tweek answered.

Craig glanced at the top of Kenny's drink before his friend grabbed the mug and took a sip.

"Kenny's didn't have a heart."

"That's cause I only do it for cute people. I'd never bother doing it for this fucker's buttface."

Tweek grinned at Kenny, who smiled back. Kenny then kissed his open palm, curled his fingers under his chin, and flicked them out toward Tweek while blowing the kiss. Tweek caught the kiss in his hand, then smacked his hand onto his ass. Both friends chuckled before Tweek quickly turned back to Craig. He found him slouched down into his chair, tugging on his chullo so that it covered his eyes. The deep blue color of the hat really brought out the rich pink that had freshly settled in Craig's cheeks. Tweek picked up the empty tray and slipped it under his arm. He clapped his free hand on Craig's shoulder.

"Anyway, I hope you like the latte, cutie," he said, turning to head back to the counter.

Kenny couldn't stop laughing at Craig's embarrassed posture. Even Clyde and Bebe were amused by the whole scene.

"Somebody has a crush on Cra~aig!" Clyde and Bebe sang in unison.

"Fuck. You. All," Craig mumbled.

"Sorry about him, man. Since he moved back, he doesn't really filter his opinions. It's both really cool and really annoying. Don't really think anything of it, though. He tells people they're cute all the time." He took another sip of his latte, wiping his lips once he placed the cup back on the table. "You should really take a sip though, Tweek makes a mean latte."

"Alright!" Clyde slammed his palm down on the table, startling Craig out of his funk. "Let's get down to brass tacks!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bebe asked, puzzled.

"I have no clue. I think I heard my dad say it once. The point is, let's finish figuring this shit out."

"I agree," Kenny interrupted. "I don't want to hang around your idiocy too long. I'm already starting to feel my brain cells begin to die off."

Clyde grimaced at Kenny, but continued. "So starting tomorrow, and continuing until the last day of this semester, we keep track of how many people we fuck. One point per _unique_ person. No having sex with the same person four times and trying to get four points out of it."

"I won't have to resort to such low tactics, but that's a reasonable rule," Kenny agreed.

"Once a week, we meet back here…I'm thinking Sunday mornings. At that time, we'll go over the current scores so that we know where we stand. The last thing I'd want is to not realize I was losing until the very end."

"That's fine. I'll get much pleasure from rubbing your face in all the sex I have." Kenny grinned suggestively at Clyde, trying to get a rise out of him. It worked.

Clyde rolled his eyes and scoffed. "In your dreams, little drummer boy! I'm going to get so much pussy, you'll start to wonder where it's all coming from!"

"That's a good point you bring up, Clyde. Here's a rule. Only people who go to our school count. No taking a trip to Denver and trying to bang people there. No trying to nail a cheerleader from the visiting team after a game."

"Dammit, post-game is usually when I get my best pulls," Clyde pouted.

Kenny thought back to the comments that Karen had made about Clyde earlier that day. His eyes narrowed. "And let's keep it to juniors and seniors only. No freshmen."

"Yeah, of course, dude. Seniors hitting on freshmen freaks me the fuck out."

"So are you guys finally done squabbling over this shit?" Craig sighed. He looked at the clock on his cell phone and groaned. "I still have an art assignment to finish, you know."

"Yeah, we're pretty much done, I think. McCormick?" said Clyde.

"Yeah. Sounds good," Kenny agreed. "So we meet here in three days?"

"Nah, make it the Sunday after. I don't want it to be too sad for you when you're still at zero come Sunday and I'm up by, like, two," said Clyde.

"Yeah, yeah, keep talking a big game. It'll be even funnier when I wreck you."

The four students stood up from their chairs. Craig took one last sip of his cold latte, placing the empty mug down with the rest, before joining the others at the counter. Clyde offered to pay for all of the drinks, stating that it was only right since it was his idea for everyone to get together. Kenny suspected it was actually because he wanted to show of that he was Mister Moneybags and could afford a twelve dollar tab. They all thanked Tweek before headed out the door.

Craig lingered behind in the doorway for a moment. He turned his head back toward the counter, eyes glued to the floor.

"Uh…thanks dude. For the drink. It was good."

He let the door close loudly behind him. Tweek pulled his earbuds out when he heard the door thud close, but when he turned around, Craig was already out of sight.

* * *

The hallways of the school were brimming with excitement on Friday morning. Students and teachers alike were eager to get through the school day so that they could enjoy the first game of the season. The football team wore their jerseys to school and the cheerleaders had on their full uniforms, as was Park County High tradition. The marching band was also wearing matching t-shirts they had designed to look like jerseys on the back, with the performer's last name above the year, which served as their uniform number. The front had the marching band's logo faded behind **_'3BD'_** in bold font. It was only ten in the morning, and Kenny was already tired of being asked _what the hell is 3BD_?

"It's the band's motto for this season," he droned.

"That's a fucking dumb motto, Kenny! It doesn't even mean anything!" replied an exacerbated Cartman.

"Actually, it says 38D. That's the band's favorite cup size. We just…we just really love big full titties, Eric," Kenny added in a sarcastic tone.

"…Seriously? Even the chicks?"

"Yup. Even the chicks." Kenny yawned, barely having the energy to keep the conversation going.

"I knew it! All girls are secretly lesbians!" Cartman announced loudly as he _finally_ took his seat. The girls in the class let out a collective groan at his asinine comment.

"H-hey Kenny!" Jimmy called out as he entered the room. "N-nice shirt! I see you all figured out a way to get your catchph-phrase past the man."

"I know right? Kyle thought it up. He can sometimes be pretentious about how smart he is, but damn, he can use those smarts to be a devious mastermind when he needs to. The Pussy Crusher can't object to three innocent letters, right? He doesn't need to know it stands for 'Bitches better bow down'."

"Let's hope he never finds out. I don't th-think we need another assembly about how the w-word 'bow' is a microaggression to Japanese-Americans…"

"And to think that was all because the drama teacher told the cast to bow during the curtain call of _The Tempest_ last year. Dude."

Kenny shook his head and slouched down into his seat. English was one of the only classes he really enjoyed, other than band, of course. He wasn't interested in reading the so-called classics. He'd read _Catcher in the Rye_ in elementary school and it totally sucked. The other books on the high school reading list weren't any better. Rather, what Kenny loved was the creative writing. He excelled at it. He used it as a platform for writing poetry. Well, not so much poetry as song lyrics, not that he had any music to go along with them yet. He put up with all of the other aspects of the class, doing well enough to get by, so that he could really express himself when it was time.

The teacher droned on about _The Canterbury Tales,_ and Kenny had to start drumming his pencil against his notebook to stay awake. He turned his head to look out the window when he noticed that Red was staring at him from two rows over. He raised an eyebrow at her and turned back to the front. That was odd. She'd never really paid attention to him before, and they only ever interacted when it was required for a class. She had been on the cheerleading squad all through high school and they all tended to hang out with the football team. The marching band was sort of isolated from that social scene, even though they were the third part of the game day triad.

He returned his glance to the side a moment later and caught her twirling her hair with her fingers. The bright green nail polish she chose for game day popped against her fiery strands. She turned to look over at him once more and caught him looking. She smiled and winked.

She must be flirting because of the band camp photo. Why else would she be pursuing him now? It didn't really matter, though. Red was hot. Plus Kenny would be lying if he said he hadn't taken notice to how her cheerleading uniform fit her body just right when she walked into class. He had half a mind to drop his notebook near her as the class was leaving and see if she'd bend over to pick it up. He only had half a mind because he also wanted to keep some mystery for later.

His phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. Kenny smirked as he pulled it out and swiped open his screen. A text from Red. He turned to look back at her. She was leering at him with a suggestive smile and biting her finger. At the rate this was going, he could have his first point by the end of the night. Eat your fucking heart out, Clyde.

 _Hey. Nice pic the other day_

 _Thx_

 _How did you get my number?_

 _Not that I mind. ;)_

 _You're a popular guy._

 _Your number gets around_

 _Just like you_

Kenny smirked at the comment. It was certainly true that he tasted the many flavors available at the school, and he wasn't ashamed of it. Still, the comment lingered in the back of his mind, nagging at him. Did people see him only in that way? Despite all of his other talents and attributes, was that the only thing he was going to be known for? Fortunately, another buzz of his phone shook him out of his head.

 _Excited for the first game?_

 _Yeah_

 _Excited to see that skirt of yours in motion_

Kenny peeked over at Red, winking when he caught her eye. She flashed him a coquettish smile and bit her lip. The classic lip bite. From Kenny's experience, that was usually a clear sign that someone was interested.

 _Hey, can you stay for a moment after class ends?_

 _I was wondering if you'd walk me to my next class_

 _There's something I want to ask you_

 _Yeah okay_

 _Now you got me all curious_

 _and not just about what's under that skirt ;)_

Red covered the side of her face with her hand so that Kenny couldn't see her blush. His first point was so close he could almost taste it. He quietly chuckled to himself. He placed the phone down on his desk and leaned back in his seat, arms folded behind his head in triumph.

The bell finally rung. Kenny leaned over to stuff his notebook and folders into his backpack. He saw a lovely pair of legs appear in front of him as he was zippering the bag shut. His eyes scanned up Red's legs and that's when he realized just how close his face was to the front of her skirt. He swallowed hard. His eyes continued to travel up her body until they locked with hers.

"Hey," he said, giving her a cocky half-smirk.

"Hey," she said back, clutching her notebooks to her chest.

Kenny wasn't sure if this was how Red always carried her belongings, or if she had chosen to not put her books in her backpack, instead using them to hide her chest from him. It was probably the former. Still, Red knew how to be a tease in all the right ways, whether intentional or not.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

"Yeah."

The made their way down the hallway, Kenny headed in the direction of his next class. He had no idea where Red's next class was, but it didn't seem like she really cared. She simply followed by his side.

"So I was wondering," Red began. "Are you busy later tonight after the game? Like around ten?"

Kenny glanced over at her. "Nah, I didn't have any plans. Why, what's up?"

"The football team and the cheerleaders have a party every season after the first game. It's, like, a tradition, you know? Anyway, it's supposed to be just for us, but we can invite other people as our date. It's just that typically most of the guys on the team are dating the girls in the squad or they don't bring a date because they only intend to get wasted and pass out. That's why it's kinda weird to see someone from another group there."

She stopped walked for a moment. Her eyes were focused down on the tiled floor, and all the confidence she had earlier suddenly seemed far away.

"So…I was wondering if you'd want to come with me? I…I think we could have a lot of fun together."

Her eyes then slowly fluttered up to meet Kenny's, and she gave him a look that would have had him throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her into the nearest janitor's closet if she had said the word.

"Fuck yeah, we'll have fun together," he muttered under his breath. "Uh, yeah. That sounds pretty cool. Where is it?"

"Stan's house. One of the co-captains always hosts and Stan offered."

"Really? You do mean Stan Marsh, right? _He_ offered to host? How the hell did that happen?"

"He's the only one with an empty house tonight. I think his parents may have intentionally planned that, if you ask me. In order to raise Stan's cool points. Not that he needs them. He's a cool guy."

"Yeah, he's still a pretty good dude."

When they turned the corner, they saw Stan and Clyde chatting by Stan's locker.

"Hey, speak of the fucking devil," Kenny laughed.

Kenny and Red came up behind them and Kenny slapped his old friend on the shoulder.

"Cool jersey there, Stan," he said as Stan turned around.

"Oh hey, Ken! Thanks! Your shirt is…cool, too? I don't get it, though," Stan replied.

"Ask Wendy. Or better yet, ask Kyle," he grinned. "They can tell you all about it."

Kenny noticed Stan's facial expression shift to a look of concern, but it passed by quickly and he didn't think anything of it.

"Anyway, Mister Quarterback, I'll leave you to your rabid fans."

Kenny finally acknowledged Clyde's presence, making eye contact with him for just a moment on the word _fans_. He wrapped his arm around Red's waist, his hand resting on her hip.

"I'll see you later tonight, Stan," he added, his voiced laced with just a hint of intrigue.

As he and Red resumed walking down the hallway, Stan turned to Clyde.

"What do you think _that_ was all about?" he asked.

"I dunno. Maybe he meant he's going to see your at the football game tonight. That'd make sense," said Clyde.

"Yeah, probably."

Clyde stared at Kenny's back as he walked away. He watched as Kenny turned his head to the side, licked his index finger, and held it in the air. Kenny quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Clyde was watching. Clyde clearly got the message. A lead ball formed in the pit of his stomach. _Dammit_. Kenny was good. Real good. This wasn't going to be nearly as easy as he had thought.


	5. Chapter Four

The atmosphere around the Park County High football field was electric. The sound of excited high schoolers preparing for the first football game of the season filled the air, mixing with the sound of the growing crowd in the stands.

On the practice field directly behind the field house, the marching band students milled about in small groups, making idle chatter before warm-ups were called. Off to the side, Wendy was helping Heidi tune her clarinet to make sure it was ready for her solo. Heidi was feeling the pressure that night, as her solo opened the entire show.

"Heidi, you sound fantastic. I know you know that deep down in your heart. You're just letting those annoying jitters of being in front of a crowd get to you. Take some deep breaths and try to pretend you're playing for empty bleachers, like at practice. I'll cue you to begin, but then it's all you, babe! I know you got this!"

Wendy rubbed her hands on Heidi's shoulders, trying to relax her tense muscles. It was awfully difficult through the thick fabric of the marching band outfits, but the intention was there. The symbolic action did actually help ease Heidi's nerves.

"Thanks, Wendy. I know this music like the back of my hand, which is why it's so frustrating that I feel so nervous!" Heidi bit her lip and nodded her head. "I'm gonna go practice some scales with the other clarinets. When do you think you're going to call full band warm-ups?"

"In about ten minutes," said Wendy.

Heidi thanked her and ran off over to the rest of her section. She passed Kyle, who was approaching Wendy. They exchanged friendly smiles. Wendy turned to Kyle as he walked up to her and noticed that his shako was slightly askew.

"Hey Wendy!" he called out.

"Good evening, Mr. Broflovski!" She made a large regal bow, giggling as she stood back up.

"Dammit Wendy, don't call me that. It makes me sound like I'm my fucking father," Kyle groaned. "I swear, once I turn eighteen I'm going to change my last name. I never want anyone to associate me with him or his internet trolling bullshittery. I can only hope that none of the colleges I apply to try Googling me, or then I am royally fucked."

"Woah. I didn't expect all of _that_ ," she said, her eyes wide. "Duly noted."

"I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. It's just been on my mind lately with application season getting closer." Kyle sighed. "Anyway, you look great in your drum major uniform." A smile spread across his lightly freckled face.

"It's just the regular uniform but with a cape over the left shoulder," she laughed. "But thank you. You look great, too. Except…" She took a step toward him and lifted her hands up to his face. "…Your shako is a bit off. Let me fix that for you."

"It's because of my stupid Jew fro hair. I should just cut it all off already."

"Aww, I love your hair. It's so fluffy and full of life." Wendy smiled. She gently pushed a piece of hair out of Kyle's face before she put her hands down.

Inside the locker rooms attached to the field house, the football team was standing together in a a mass of bodies. The three co-captains were standing in the open doorway that led to the practice field. They were facing their fellow teammates, giving one final pep talk before the game began. Stan looked out toward the marching band kids gathered on the practice field, clearly distracted.

"Stan? Stan! Dude!"

Clyde grabbed Stan's shoulder pad and wiggled it back and forth. Stan snapped out of his trance.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Do you have anything to add?" Clyde repeated.

"Uh…yeah. Aspen's defense is weak this season, but their offense is pretty strong. I know our defensive line can block them though. Let's hit hard and play smart, guys! Go Bulls!"

" _Go Bulls!"_ the team yelled back.

Clyde and Token brought Stan aside for a moment once the team stood up and began their final warm-ups.

"So…about that whole staring off into the middle distance thing," Token began.

"What do you mean?" asked Stan.

"Bro, you were totally giving the band geeks this death glare or something," said Clyde. "Are you sure your okay?"

"Yeah…yeah," replied Stan. "I was just, uh, staring at Wendy. She gets to debut as drum major tonight, and she looks perfect. I'm so proud of her. She wanted that spot so badly."

Token and Clyde looked over at the band. Wendy stood on the podium, leading the full band in warm-up scales.

"The quarterback and the drum major. You two are like the school's fucking power couple, my man." Clyde grinned and slapped Stan on the back in a congratulatory manner.

"Hey! What about me and Nichole?" Token added, laughing.

"You're the hottest couple at the school. You only get one couple title, Black Thunder."

"Jesus Christ, Clyde. You really need to stop calling me that." Token rubbed his forehead and shook his head at his friend.

"Aww, why? I told you that you could call me White Lightning!"

"That doesn't make it better. Dammit, I'll explain it to you again later tonight," Token sighed.

* * *

" _Wooo!_ " Karen screamed, her fists high in the air.

"Nothing is even happening right now, Karen," Tricia laughed, shaking her head.

"Don't even bother, Tricia. Kenny warned me that she was going to be like this," Craig said flatly.

"I've been looking forward to this all summer, you guys! My first real high school football game!"

She let out a few more whoops, hoping to get some of the other fans in her general vicinity to join in. They did not.

"Kenny's been in the marching band for the last three years. You never went to a game to watch him at all during that time?" Craig asked.

"I think I went to one his freshman year. Our parents were there that night, too. And they were sober. It was nice. Never happened again, though, and I didn't really have a way to get here by myself. I was, like, eleven, Craig."

"You always could have come with us!" said Tricia. "I never knew it was something you wanted to do, or I would've invited you all the times we came to games." She looked genuinely disappointed in herself.

"It's okay. I was still pretty shy back then, so I wouldn't have tried to ask. Also, your brother totally intimidated me back then. I was kinda scared of him. But now I know he's a big nerd and there's nothing to be afraid of!" Karen leaned into Craig's side and nuzzled him with her cheek. "Isn't that right, Craig old pal!"

Craig glared at her and gave her head a gentle nudge with his elbow. "Hey kiddo, just because you're Kenny's sister and you're in the art club with me doesn't mean you can snuggle me like I'm some fucking teddy bear."

"You are _so_ a teddy bear!" Karen beamed. "Put down your barriers, Craig! Let the love in!" Karen leaned back into Craig.

Tricia turned to her brother and smirked. "Makes you appreciate having me as your little sister a bit, yeah?"

"Yes. Yes it does," he replied.

" _WOO! FOOTBALL!"_

* * *

The Park County cheerleaders stood scattered around the outside of the locker rooms, next to the inflatable blast tunnel that the Class of 2015 had gifted to the school upon graduation. Scott, Lisa, and a few others were working on warming up their muscles for all of the lifting they were going to be doing. The rest of the squad was doing some final stretches. Bebe finished up her own stretching, grabbed her pom poms, and motioned for the group to circle up.

"This is it, everyone. First game of the year. You've all worked really hard since camp this summer. Everyone has improved so much since last year. I'd like to specifically call out our boy Scott as the most improved. Let's give him a hand!"

"Thanks, Bebe. You've all been so nice and accepting of me. Even with my diabetes," Scott beamed as his peers applauded him.

"Why would your diabetes matter, babe?" Lisa asked, putting her arm around her friend's shoulders.

"It wouldn't, would it? I still have to remind myself that it doesn't make me a bad person. Growing up, it was kind of drilled into my head by my friends."

"Your friends are assholes," Annie stated plainly. "And seriously, I will never understand men."

"I guess it's a good thing you like girls then, huh?" Red winked.

"You're damn right," Annie laughed.

"Alright everyone, are you ready?" Bebe yelled.

"Yeah!" they all called back in response.

"I didn't quite hear you. I asked, are you fucking ready?!"

"YEAH!"

"Then let's head out and work this crowd into _a motherfucking frenzy_!" Bebe cheered.

The cheerleaders ran out onto the field, raising their arms high, pompoms rustling in the air. Scott ran out with a large green cheerleading megaphone, painted with the Park County Bulls logo. Some of them did a few hand springs and cartwheels as they approached their spot in front of the crowd.

" _Wooo! Yeah, Park County Cheerleaders!_ " Karen jumped up and down in the bleachers as they took their position.

"You're going to do this for everything tonight, aren't you?" Tricia laughed at her friend.

"Hell yes! I'm so excited, and the cheerleaders are so precious! Just look at them! I want to draw them all in fabulous clothing. With flower crowns! And, and angel wings!"

"You know Karen, sometimes I wish I had your energy and personality," admitted Tricia. She snuck her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. It was still hot during the day, but the September night air was beginning to cool.

"You're perfect just the way you are, Trish!" Karen beamed. She wrapped her arms around Tricia and squeezed tightly.

"Hey, over there. It looks like the band is lined up to come out," Craig said, pointing toward the field house.

Wendy stood in front of the band. Everyone was in block formation, six people across. The drumline led the band, followed by the color guard, with the winds bringing up the rear. Kenny marched in the front line with the rest of the snares, his spot being the one closest to the crowd. He held hit one drumstick onto the snare—one (two) three (four) one (two three four)—keeping time as the band marched out onto the field. Craig found Kenny and pointed him out to Karen. She jumped back out of her seat and startled a few of the other fans.

"KENNY! _KENNY!_ YOU'RE SO AWESOME, I LOVE YOU! _WOO_!"

Kenny had a serious look on his face when he first entered the field, but once he heard Karen screaming from the stands, he broke into a goofy grin. He turned his head slightly to glance up into the stands. He caught sight of Karen flailing her arms around like an inflatable tube person and winked at her. He seriously had the best sister in the world.

Craig cracked a small smile as he watched Kenny and Karen interact. His eyes scanned through the rest of the band as they passed by and moved into position for the national anthem. When he spotted Tweek in the fourth line, he subconsciously began to tug at the strings of his chullo. The small action didn't get past Tricia.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Who do you like?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"Your hands. You only pull on the strings like that when you're around someone you like. So who is it?"

"I don't do that," he said quickly, dropping his hands to his thighs.

"Is it Kenny again? I thought you were over him."

"Yup, it's Kenny," Craig quickly responded. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he wasn't about to talk about it with Tricia during a high school football game.

Tricia looked at him with doubt in her eyes. "Okay. Well…be careful this time. You fall hard, and you're a major bummer when you're sad, so I hope it works out for you."

The band finally came to a halt in front of the podium. Wendy climbed up on top of it and took a deep breath. She raised her hands and the band raised their instruments. The announcer welcomed the crowd to the beginning of the 2018 season and introduced the Park County Bulls as Wendy counted in the band. As soon as the first notes hit, Stan, Clyde, and Token burst through the tunnel, the rest of the football team at their heels. The crowd roared in appreciation as they came running out onto the field. Billy the Bull, the Park County mascot, came lumbering onto the field behind the team.

The team stood in two lines and the announcer asked for the crowd to stand for the national anthem. When the band finished the final note, Wendy cut them off and placed her hands down. The band followed, lowering their instruments. The band was told at ease, and the student made their way to the reserved section of the stands.

Clyde, Stan, and Token moved toward the 50-yard line to meet Aspen High's two captains. The ref tossed the coin and the visitors won the toss, choosing to receive. As the two teams moved into position for kick off, Billy the Bull positioned himself next to the cheerleaders. He tried to follow along with their moves, failing comically, much to the amusement of the crowd.

The majority of the marching band was finally settled into their spots. Wendy stood on the ground in front of the stands, ready to bring the band to attention for a pep song on any important plays. The drumline sat in the second row, their drums sitting in front of them on the first row. Naturally, Tweek and Kenny say next to each other. The color guard made their way up the stands, being the last to leave the field after laying their equipment on the sideline. As Butters walked by, Kenny caught his attention.

"Hey Butters! The color guard costumes look pretty fucking sweet!"

"Thanks, Ken!" Butters eyes lit up at the compliment. "Kelly and I designed them together over the summer! She had to pull me back a bit, though. I wanted them to be entirely covered in sequins and glitter. I wanted to sparkle like a diamond on the field!"

"You already do, my friend," Kenny laughed.

"Aw gee whiz, you're so kind! Ooh! Another thing about the costumes! Kelly and I figured out a way to make the pants so that everyone's buns look great!

Butters turned around and wiggled his ass a little, trying to make his point. He glanced over his shoulder back at Kenny and Tweek.

"See?!" he said. His eyes were full of sincerity and zero hidden intention.

Kenny stared at Butters' spandex-clad ass and smiled. He leaned forward, a lascivious grin on his face.

"Damn, you're right. Seriously, Butters. When are you going to let me wreck that fine ass of yours?" he asked.

"Oh Ken, you're so silly!" he blushed. "Anyway, I'll chat with you later! I need to tell you all about my summer with the drum corps!"

Butters scurried off up to the top of the bleachers. Tweek turned to Kenny, his eyebrows raised.

"And you wonder why people say you'll fuck anything with a pulse," he said.

"I like what I like. And haters gonna hate, I guess," Kenny replied with a shrug.

"But the more important piece of information from that fucking weird exchange…Butters was in drum corps?"

"Yeah man. He turned seventeen just in time to audition. He got into the freaking Blue Devils, too dude. He's _really_ good. Have you ever watched him spin?"

"Oh _yeah_. Of _course_ I have. I watch him _all_ the time while I'm marching backwards in front of you, holding out my cymbals so _you_ can sound cooler." Tweek rolled his eyes.

"Fine, bitch. Be that way," Kenny grinned. "Well, if you ever _get_ the chance to watch him, do. He's a natural performer."

As the first quarter ticked down, the Bulls managed to score a touchdown thanks to Stan's arm and Token's legs. The band played an abbreviated version of the school's fight song amidst the cheers of the crowd. As the second quarter began, other members of the drumline began to comment on the team's defense this year.

"Donovan's been making some great blocks so far tonight," said a drummer on quads.

"Yeah. I think he's faster this year, too," said one on bass drum. "Is it just me or is he lighter on his feet?"

Kenny sighed and rolled his eyes. "Give me a break. He's not lighter. He eats at freaking Taco Bell all the time."

"Maybe so. Still, he's kicking some major ass tonight."

"Of course Donovan's good at standing in the way of shit. He _would_ make a better wall than a door. Fucking idiot," Kenny mumbled under his breath.

When the second quarter was about halfway complete, the band made their way out of the stands and over to the practice field for some fine tuning before halftime.

"Oh, the band is moving! Does this mean it's almost halftime?" Karen asked.

Craig nodded and Karen beamed.

"Oh good. We didn't miss it," a mechanical sounding voice spoke behind them.

Craig turned around to see Timmy, Kevin, and Jimmy approaching from the concession stands. Craig watched as Timmy's hands moved and his computer began to speak again.

"Hey Craig!" the computerized voice spoke. " _Timmy!"_ the actual Timmy joyously added.

"Y-yeah! What's shakin', b-b-bacon?" Jimmy chimed in.

"Hey guys. Why are you just now showing up? Are you trying to be fashionably late or something?" Craig smirked.

"No. We were just stuck in the computer lab until just recently because of this jerk." Kevin pointed his thumb at Timmy. "Timmy Neutron, Boy Genius here isn't satisfied just being the smartest kid in whole darn school. He's not satisfied developing software that can read is hand movements and vocal inflections and translate what he wants to say. No, no. That's not good enough. His digital voice needs to be _perfect_."

Kevin took a long side of his fountain soda. It was like he hadn't had a drink in hours.

"Timmy, k-kinda held us hostage until he picked the perfect vocal tone. He said he needed something se-se-sehhhxy so he can pick up chicks."

"Timmy!" Craig scolded. "What the fuck, dude?"

Timmy shrugged. " _Timmy…"_ "What can I say, Craig? I still have the body of a twelve year old. I wanted the voice of a distinguished 35 year old man."

"Anyway, would it be cool if we sat here with you? There aren't many places where his wheelchair can go," Kevin asked.

"Yeah sure. I like you guys. You're generally not assholes."

"Thanks, Craig. That's the highest T-Tucker praise."

The second quarter ended 17-14, with Aspen leading over Park County. The team trudged off the field to a smattering of applause from the crowd, punctuated by some cries of _'You guys can turn this around in the second half!'_ and _'It ain't over till it's over, boys!'_ It was obvious that the players were already feeling defeated. At the previous year's first game, they had entered halftime up by fourteen points. Now they were down by three. It wasn't a great way to start the season.

Stan pulled off his helmet and threw it against the wall as soon as he entered the locker room. His action spoke for the entire team. They all grabbed a water bottle and gathered around Coach McKay. He pulled his headset down around his neck and paced back and forth. It was eerily quiet in the locker room. So quiet that every player could hear the sound of Coach McKay scratching his neatly groomed salt and pepper beard as he thought of what to say.

"The game's not over, men. We may be down, but it's only by three points. We can come back from this, _easily._ As long as we don't let ourselves get defeated mentally. The moment we believe it's all over in here-"

He pointed to his heart.

"-and here-"

He then pointed to his temple.

"-we're done. To be honest, our defense has been sloppy tonight. I know you're all capable of pushing back against this team. We just need to tighten up that defense, just a little. Once we do that, I don't think they'll be able to score again tonight. What do you say, men?!"

"Yeah!" the team cheered.

"I can't hear you! I said, what do you say, men?!"

 _"YEAH!"_

"Then let's go out there and kick Aspen's ass!"

The boys cheered loudly, smacking each other on the helmet and shoulder pads to get themselves riled up. They finished their waters and moved back into position to enter the field for the second half. Unfortunately for them, Coach McKay's speech hadn't taken very long and the marching band was still performing. Stan stood on the balls of his feet, straining his neck in an attempt to get a better view of Wendy conducting. He grabbed Clyde's arm and pulled him close.

"Hey. Clyde. Sneak over under the bleachers with me to watch the band."

"What? No! Why the hell would I do that? I don't give a shit about the band," Clyde said. He tried to yank his arm back from Stan's clutches.

"Don't be a dick, dude. Come on! We'll get back in time." Stan squeezed his hand around Clyde's wrist and tugged.

Clyde sighed and snuck out of the doors with Stan. They made sure to stay in the shadows as they scurried over to and underneath the bleachers. As they navigated between the beams and supports in the dark, they smelled tobacco and saw the faint glow of burning cigarettes.

"The goth kids actually came to a game?" Clyde muttered to Stan.

"We can like football, too, poser," Pete said from the shadows.

"And if you ever speak of this to anyone, I'll gauge your fucking eyes out with a melon baller," Henrietta added for good measure.

Clyde and Stan held up their hands as they quietly moved by and toward the chain link fence that protected the bleachers from the field. Stan grabbed ahold of the chain link and looked up at Wendy as she was taking a bow and holding her hand out to present the band to the audience. They had just finished a song.

"I think we missed it," Stan whispered to Clyde, clearly disappointed.

"Nah dude, there's like like six minutes on the board for halftime."

Wendy lifted up her hands and counted in the band one last time. The entire band let out a loud _Woo!_ before they scattered around the field into a new formation as the drumline began the opening beats of "Superstition". The drums moved forward toward the sideline while the rest of the band grouped into a tight box behind them, the color guard spread out behind them.

Clyde found Kenny in the drumline immediately. He radiated smugness and overconfidence while he played. It also helped that he was in the center of the snares and standing on the fifty yard line right in front of Wendy. The drumline began to sidestep, swaying to the tempo of the song. Kenny's face was beaming. He looked like he was having an amazing time performing, and that was something that even Clyde couldn't deny. For a moment, Clyde was almost hypnotized by the precise movements of Kenny's wrists, but how the rest of his arms barely moved. Then suddenly the snares leaned back and made large sweeping arm motions. Kenny was less leaning back and more doing pelvic thrusts in the air with his drum as he hit the rim. It was disgusting and vulgar, and definitely _not_ cool at all. _Cha-_ ka _-cha-_ ka _-cha_ kata _-cha!_ Clyde swore that Kenny was looking straight at him when he was doing it and he felt an uncomfortable sensation in his stomach. Thankfully he then noticed that Red was standing in the line of sight between them and that Kenny was aiming his drum thrusts at her. The uncomfortable sensation changed to nausea.

The rimshots led right into a drumroll as the band behind them held one final blaring note. The crowd above Stan and Clyde lost their goddamn minds. They were so loud and boisterous that Clyde actually took his eyes off the band and looked up, even though he couldn't see anything. A large hand suddenly touched Clyde's shoulder.

"Ahh!" he cried, spinning around.

It was Token.

"You guys gotta come back, like really quick," he said.

Clyde pried Stan off of the fence and the three of them ran back underneath the bleachers, past the goth kids, and through the shadows to the rest of the team.

"I didn't get to see much, but the band looked like they were tearing it up," Token commented on the way back.

"Feh," Clyde scoffed. "They were, like, whatever." He'd die before he'd admit that he had found them kinda sorta a tiny bit entertaining.

The band marched off of the field to the drum cadence and moments later, the football team ran back out to begin the second half. Karen was bouncing in her seat, still giddy from the performance. Jimmy and Kevin sat next to Craig, and Timmy sat in the wheelchair accessible space next to them. When Aspen's mascot came around to the home side from the visitors side, it got the boys chatting.

"What the fuck is their mascot? Is that…? Is that a fucking skier?" Craig said.

The mascot came plodding over with skis strapped to their feet, two ski poles, and ski goggles on.

"Well…I mean, they are Aspen. That's kinda what they're known for, right?" said Kevin.

"God, that's so lame though. I'll take Billy the Bull over…what? Chad the Giant Douche?" said Craig.

"Sp-speaking of Billy, looks like he agrees with you about Ch-Chad," Jimmy said as he pointed down to the field.

Billy the Bull marched right up to the Aspen Skier and started to shimmy his shoulders at him. He then spun around and started to twerk against the Aspen mascot's hip. The crowd roared with laughter at the ridiculous antics.

"So tell me. How the hell does Cartman get away with doing this sort of stuff as our mascot?" Craig asked.

"The crowd loves it," Timmy responded. "I think PC Principal and the rest of faculty decided that they'd let the cruder stuff slide because the fans like it. I think they also let some of his…more colorful statements at school slide because he helps bring in money. People are seriously willing to pay five dollars to take a selfie with him.

"That was Cartman's idea, wasn't it?" asked Craig.

"Who else's would it have been?" said Kevin. "He's a hateful, arrogant idiot, but he's really good at making money. He's going make a great business man someday."

"Lord h-help us all."

The fourth quarter neared completion and the score was 24-21. There were only two minutes left on the clock and the tension in the air was palpable. For a team with so much hype and potential going into the first game, it would sour the entire season if they were to lose. Stan called for a timeout. It was the last one that the Bulls had available for the game, so it was important to make the most of it. The team huddled up in the middle of the field. Token wiped sweat from his brow. Clyde slapped Stan on the back. Stan was silent for a while, his mind racing, before he finally explained his last ditch plan.

The band was itching in their seats. It was always unsettling to perform the school fight song at the end of the game when the team lost. They had been spoiled the previous year, having been able to celebrate and feel the excitement from the football team winning nearly every game.

Tweek nervously bit his nails. Kenny crossed his arms, feeling the dread like everyone else, but trying to not show it. If the team lost, he could use it as fodder to mock Clyde, so it wouldn't be a total waste. Still, it would be pretty fucking cool if the team was able to go to the championships again and go all the way this time. It'd be a nice way to cap off his senior year with the band, getting to go to Denver and perform at Mile High Stadium.

The referee blew their whistle and the team scattered back into position. The clock began to tick down once again. Stan made the call to begin the play, the players dashing off in different directions. Stan looked down the field, taking a few steps back. He watched Clyde dodge one of Aspen's players and run into an open area at the ten-yard line. Stan launched the ball into the air. It spun toward Clyde's open hands, but suddenly one of Aspen's players broke through and charged forward. Clyde jumped up to catch the football right as his opponent leapt forward to tackle him. His arms stretched out and he was just able to grab the ball in his hands before he was dragged to the ground. The two players both landed in the end zone. The ball was firmly clutched to Clyde's chest. The referees held up their hands in the air.

The stands erupted in cheers. Students and adults alike were jumping out of their seats. The band sprung to their feet and immediately began to play the school's fight song. Clyde climbed up off of the ground and theatrically threw the football down into the turf. He ran into the open arms of Token. Token lifted him up and spun him around once before they were both tackle hugged by Stan. The song completed and the team quickly regrouped to attempt the goal kick.

Kenny sat back down in his seat. He watched as Clyde made his way into position. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Damn…that was a good catch," he whispered under his breath.

Tweek turned to look at Kenny and smirked.

"Pretty good, right?" he said. "There _is_ a reason he acts like Mr. Big Dick Football Prick all the time, you know. He backs that shit up on the field. It's honestly pretty fucking impressive, if you ask me."

"Whatever. I still don't like him. He's a fucking tool. And I _didn't_ ask you, Tweek."

Tweek shoved a middle finger into his face and Kenny leaned in to kiss it.

"Aww, you're so sweet, giving me such a lovely gift!" Kenny laughed.

The field goal attempt was good, leaving the score 28-24 in Park County's favor as the clock finally ran out. The crowd cheered. The band played the fight song one last time. The two teams left the field, filing into their respective locker rooms.

* * *

"Kenny!" Karen yelled as she ran up to her brother and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You were so cool!"

Kenny laughed and smiled, hugging her back. "Thanks Karen. I'm glad you enjoyed our show. We have a lot to work on, but I thought it was pretty good tonight. We're only going to get better."

Kenny looked up to see Craig and Tricia in the doorway of the band room.

"Hey guys," he smiled.

He finished putting away his equipment and joined them in the hallway. The sound of the girls' locker room door opening echoed down the hallway, the voices of the cheerleaders flooding out into the open space. Kenny turned his head toward the noise, spotting Red as she finally emerged, her duffle in hand.

"Hey Craig," Kenny asked as he continued to stare. "Could you do me a huge favor and give Karen a ride? I'm not going home quite yet. I've got some, uh, work to do, if you know what I mean."

Kenny looked back at Craig and winked. Craig nodded his head, allowing Kenny to head down the hallway to meet up with Red.

Craig rolled his eyes at Kenny's back. "Ugh, straight people," he quietly groaned.

"Hey, I heard that!" Kenny spun around, walking backward. "You know full well I'm not fuckin' straight! Don't make me come back over there and spank you!" He grinned and turned back around.

Craig laughed and a faint blush rose into his cheeks. Tricia shook her head and sighed.

"I'm scarred forever now. Thanks, bro."

They watched as Kenny approached Red and slipped both of his hands around her waist, pulling him ever-so-slightly closer to him. Red wrapped her arms around his neck. One of his hands slowly slid down over her hip and onto her bare thigh. His fingertips snuck underneath the hem of her skirt, gently stroking her smooth skin.

"My previous statement still stands," Craig said, rolling his eyes once more. "Let's go before they start making out."

"Good idea," Tricia agreed.

Karen's reaction to her brother's roaming hands would never be discovered, as she had her nose buried in her phone. Technology was so cool. The game had only ended a short while ago and Instagram was already flooded with great shots. She swiped from photo to photo as she followed along behind her friends. She stopped on one photo in particular that made her smile extra wide—Clyde making the game's winning touchdown. Looking at it gave her a funny feeling, but she liked it. Karen glanced up to make sure no one was looking, then saved the photo to her phone.


	6. Chapter Five

"How much longer till you're done setting up the sound equipment, Kevin?" Stan yelled from the kitchen.

He waited for a response, giving Kevin a few beats to come up with an estimate. After he didn't hear anything back, he called out one more time.

"Kev? DJ Warpspeed?"

A song began to play from the living room. It was "Four Minutes" by Madonna.

"Ha ha, very funny, Kevin! I'm gonna hold you to that four minutes, artard!"

It was about an hour after the game had ended. Stan had rushed home without partaking in the congratulatory crowd of parents and fans outside of the locker room. He had managed to duck through the crowd since everyone wanted to see Clyde that night. He was filling the table with dozens of red solo cups when Clyde, Token, and Nichole finally arrived.

"The party starter is here! Whoop whoop!" Clyde announced.

"Great, can you go unload the snacks and shit from my car? Thanks, Clyde." Stan's words sounded like a question, but his tone of voice was more of a command than anything.

"Fiiine," Clyde sighed. "It's a good thing I love you, dude. Like a brother, I mean." He proceeded to turn around and march back outside.

"Hey Stan, look at this," said Token. "I managed to sneak this bottle of scotch from my parents cabinet."

"Dude, that looks fucking expensive!" Stan's eyes widened at the fancy looking bottle.

"I mean, it might be? One of my dad's clients gave this to him for Christmas like six years ago and they still haven't touched it. I'm not really sure if it's because they were saving it for a special occasion, they don't like scotch, or they just forgot they even had it."

"Let's hope they forgot about it. You can put it over there on the counter." Stan turned to Nichole. "Hey Nichole, could you help me open all of these beer cans and ration them out into the cups."

"Sure, Stan," she answered. "How were you able to get all this beer on your own? Did you ask Shelly to get this for you?" She eyed the many cases stacked on the floor.

"Fuck no. If I ever tried to ask Shelly for anything, she'd probably kick my ass. I might have a size advantage on her now, but she's still fucking scary. Nah, my dad got them for me."

"Wait, what? Your dad actually _encourages_ underage drinking?" she asked.

Stan rolled his head to the side and stared at Nichole. "Really? Come on Nichole, you've lived here for long enough to know that my dad is one of the biggest alcoholics in town, _and_ he will do literally anything to make the kids in this town think he's cool. I didn't even have to fucking ask." He gestured to the cases.

"Okay, you're right, you're right," she giggled.

"Speaking of your parents, where are they?" asked Token.

"Denver. A couple of new musicals came to the area recently, so they went for the weekend."

"You do realize that means that your mom is giving your dad head right now as we speak, yes?" Token's faced scrunched up. No one liked to imagine the adults of South Park as sexual beings.

"I am aware of that, Token, yes. Thanks for reminding me." Stan shook his head as he continued to open more cans of beer and pour about half a can into each cup. "That disturbing thought is worth it for tonight, though, so that we can have the entire house and no adults around."

"Hell yeah, bro! We're going to tear the fucking house down!" Clyde had entered the kitchen and set the bags of snacks on the counter.

"Not literally of course!" Stan interjected. "God, I hate that I have to even say that, but knowing this town…"

People began to slowly trickle in, and by eleven, the Marsh house was full of students. The windowpanes were vibrating from the volume of the music and the deepness of the bass served by DJ Warpspeed. The first floor smelled of many varieties of perfume and only one or two varieties of Axe body spray. Most of the students were already to the tipsy level of the drunkenness scale. Some, mostly the cheer squad, were dancing in the middle of the living room floor. Some, mostly the football players, were spread out throughout the house. The walls, the couch, the backyard. Anywhere that the guys could fit and down cup after cup of cheap beer while cracking offensive jokes with each other, you'd find them. Clyde and Token were in the kitchen, chatting about the results of the game.

"That was one hell of a catch, my friend," said Token.

He held up his red cup of expensive scotch in a toast to Clyde. Clyde tapped his own red cup full of _'I don't give a shit as long as it gets me drunk'_ against Token's cup and then they both drank. Token took a dignified sip, spending a moment to try to appreciate the taste of the scotch. It was horrible and made his mouth feel like it was on fire, but he wasn't about to let that show on his face. Clyde leaned back and gulped down the entire contents of his cup. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a very undignified belch when he was done.

"Do you think any of the girls here would fuck me because of it?" Clyde asked, straight-faced.

Token almost choked on his next sip. "Um, maybe? You'd have to ask the girls themselves, bro."

"Oh. Yeah I guess that could work. I was hoping they'd be throwing themselves at me tonight, but it looks like they're all too busy dancing with each other to come climb Mount Clyde."

"Clyde, what's up with you tonight? Are you already drunk? You _love_ to flirt. That's one of your few talents. It's football and flirting. That's what you fucking do!"

"I dunno. I really need to get laid tonight. I just didn't want it to be too hard."

"Jesus Christ, dude. You _need_ to get laid tonight? Why is it so important tonight? Are you _that_ horny?"

"Well, it's just that—"

The sound of someone banging on the front door distracted Clyde from his thought. One of the cheerleaders who was nearby opened the door. Kenny stepped into the house, Red thrown over his shoulder, one of his hands firmly on her ass.

 **"** Did anyone here order a pizza with extra hot Red sauce?" he loudly announced.

The cheerleaders let out a shriek of excitement as Kenny put Red down and she ran into their arms for hugs. Kenny closed the door behind him. From the kitchen, Clyde glared daggers at the back of his head.

"Why the fuck is _he_ here?" Clyde asked Token.

Token leaned over to see who Clyde was talking about. "I'm gonna guess that Red invited him, dude. You know we're able to invite whoever we want. This isn't a completely exclusive event."

"Yeah, but…but… _him_?"

"Why not? He's in the band. It's not like they're our sworn enemies or anything."

"Speak for yourself," Clyde mumbled under his breath.

Clyde looked back out into the living room and was met with Kenny staring back at him. Kenny sent him a smile and a wink, drenched in smug. Clyde balled his fists and grit his teeth. That bastard comes into his space just to fuck with him? Clyde desperately wanted everyone else to notice this and realize that Kenny wasn't the good guy that they seem to think he is. He knew that Kenny was going to flaunt Red in front of him the entire night, just to piss him off. What an asshole! He grabbed another red cup of beer and drank it down, throwing the empty cup at the wall.

"Dude, are you alright?"

Clyde startled at the voice next to him. Token's eyes were wide in response to Clyde's sudden outburst. Clyde had forgotten that he was still in the kitchen with him.

"Oh. Yeah, totally. I was trying to throw my cup into the trash can to look cool."

"Clyde. The trash can is on the other side of the room."

"Well, Token, that's why I'm not the quarterback. I'm a lousy throw."

Clyde grabbed another cup and quickly escaped into the living room. He didn't want to be any closer to Kenny, but he sure as shit didn't want to stay in that awkward situation with Token any longer. It turned out to be great timing, as he narrowly missed Kenny, who was heading into the kitchen to fetch some drinks for Red and himself. He nodded to Token, who nodded in return.

"Good game tonight," Kenny said. He wasn't a huge fan of small talk with people he wasn't especially close to, but he _really_ wasn't a fan of existing in uncomfortable silence with people he wasn't close to.

"Thanks. It was a tough one tonight. I think we were too cocky going in," said Token. "You guys sounded really good. You looked pretty fucking cool, from what I saw."

Kenny cocked his head to the side. "How would you know? Aren't you guys in the locker room during halftime?"

"Yeah, we are. But Stan and Clyde snuck out under the bleachers to watch the last song. I had to run out to drag them back before we ran out for the second half."

"Why were they trying to watch?" Kenny asked.

"Stan wanted to get a better look at Wendy. He just kinda dragged Clyde along with him."

"Of course he fucking did." Kenny scratched the back of his head. "Did Donovan say anything about the performance?"

"Oh yeah. He said you guys were, quote, whatever. My man has opinions," Token chuckled.

"Right," Kenny scoffed. "Well Token, I think I'm gonna head back out there. I've got big plans for Red tonight." He gave Token a sly smile, his tongue slightly sticking out from between his teeth.

"Yeah, what's up with that? Are you two dating now?"

"Nah, we're just having fun together. Nothing serious. You know how it is."

"No. No I really wouldn't, Ken."

Token wrapped his arm around Nichole, who had just entered the kitchen.

"What wouldn't you know, babe?" she asked. "Ooh, let me have a sip, I'm thirsty." She took his cup from his hand and finished off the contents.

"I wouldn't know what having casual fun with someone is like. I like to get to _really know_ my girl inside and out." He leaned down to nuzzle Nichole's neck.

"Yeah you do," Nichole growled back, moving in to kiss him. The two began to kiss rather intensely, like they had completely forgotten that Kenny was there.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go before you guys start fucking on the kitchen table."

He scooped up a couple more cups and returned to the living room. As he walked past the staircase, he gave the side eye to Clyde, who had been trying to hide in the shadows on the sidelines of the party. This wasn't lost on Clyde.

"Why am I the only one who sees that he's a big dumb jerk?"

"Huh? Who?" asked Stan.

"McCormick! He's been messing with me all week! Everyone thinks he's this super chill fun dude, but really he's a giant dick!" Clyde waved his hands in the air for emphasis.

Stan giggled. "A giant dick. That'd be awesome. Like fifty feet long and ten feet wide. With, like, giant balls, too."

"Dammit, Stan! How much have you had to drink?"

"Lots," he giggled.

Clyde grumbled. "At least you're not at the point of puking on me, I guess."

He sighed and sat back down next to Stan on the stairs. He watched at Kenny mingled with the cheer squad, dancing with them and chatting casually. Hopefully the bastard would ruin his chance with Red by focusing too much time and energy on the other girls. Glancing over at Red, however, it didn't look like she cared much. In fact, it looked like she was enjoying the fact that Kenny was spending time socializing with her friends. Goddammit, Red's a jerk, too!

After a few minutes of quietly watching his peers dancing while Stan leaned heavily on his shoulder, Clyde spoke up.

"So, like, where's Wendy? I would've figured you'd have brought her tonight."

Stan snuggled closer to Clyde. "Yeah. I tried to invite her. She said she hates these sort of parties and she said that the band was getting together for their own thing. So she's probably with them. She's probably with Kyle right now..."

Stan's voice drifted off. He stared blankly out into the living room, his head still resting against Clyde's shoulder.

"Uh, that's a weirdly specific thing to say," Clyde responded after a beat.

"What is?" Stan asked.

"That she's with Kyle."

"Who's with Kyle?"

"Okay buddy, you're officially drunk."

Clyde patted Stan on the head before pushing him off of his shoulder and resting him against the wall. He had thought that the stairs would be a good place to linger, given that he could get a good look at the whole room, _and_ if the girls needed to go to the bathroom, they'd have to pass by him. That's when he could begin the flirting. But no one had gone to the bathroom yet, which was surprising given how much everyone had been drinking.

Of course, it would be a lot easier to just flirt directly with the girls, like Token suggested. But that would require Clyde to get near Kenny, and he knew that if he did, one of two things would happen. Either he would get too angry at how everyone is just hanging off of Kenny that he would be a horrible flirt, or he'd end up getting cock blocked by Kenny somehow. Like Kenny would loudly announce that Clyde had a small dick or something. Who knows! Kenny's a douchebag like that. Clyde grumbled to himself. This night was going nowhere.

Or was it? Clyde suddenly caught Lisa out of the corner of his eye. She was heading this way! She was probably a sure thing because they dated for about a week in fourth grade! This would be a cinch!

"Hey Lisa, what's going on?" he asked when she stopped in front of the stairs. He leaned back on his elbows and looked up at her with heavy lids in an attempt to look cool and casual.

"I have to pee, Clyde. Outta my way," she said, hands on her hips.

"Oh yeah? What're you gonna do about it if I don't move? Are you gonna roughhouse me?" Clyde gave her a wink.

"Uh, no. I'm probably just going to end up pissing on you because I was blocked from going to the fucking bathroom."

"Oh. Uh…well would you maybe want to make out later tonight?" he blurted out.

"Yeah, sure, fine. Now can I just go to the bathroom already?"

"Yeah."

Clyde stood up, pouting. He moved away from the staircase, leaving Stan snoozing against the wall and Lisa to go about her business upstairs. He spotted Bebe taking a seat in an empty easy chair. She flung her legs up over one of the arms of the chair and scooted down so that her head was resting on the other. Clyde made a beeline toward her.

"Bebeeeee…" he whined. He draped his body over the back of the chair, staring at her with big brown puppy dog eyes.

"What is it, my sad little pup?" she laughed, placing her hand on his cheek. "I'm only taking a break for one song, so you've got about three minutes."

"No one wants to have sex with meeee," he whined.

"How many girls have you asked?"

"Uh, well…none. I just asked Lisa if she wanted to make out, which could lead to sex. I figured all the cheerleaders would be all over me tonight, but…nada. They've been all over douchebag over there."

Clyde nodded his head toward Kenny.

"Ugh, I mean look at him rolling his hips at them like a fucking coked up stripper. Wearing a stupid button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He might as well being wearing a goddamn man bun with how much of an asshole he looks right now."

"You're being weirdly detailed in your insults, babe. Like maybe you've been staring at him a lot tonight." Bebe raised her eyebrows and stared Clyde down.

"What? No! I mean, yeah, but, that's, like, cause I can't focus on anything else while he's here ruining my good time," he pouted.

Bebe smiled and patted Clyde on the shoulder.

"Look, Clyde. By worrying about what Kenny's doing and brooding about him even being here, _god forbid_ , you're putting out a really negative energy. Girls aren't going to be attracted to that. What they _are_ attracted to is someone who's putting out a fun, positive energy. Like Kenny has been doing all night."

Clyde rolled his eyes. He really _was_ the only one who could see through Kenny's smoke and mirrors.

"So what I think you should do," Bebe continued, "is get out on the dance floor and have some fun. Don't give a shit about what Kenny is doing or who he's with. Be your charming, goofy self, and you'll manage to score a point tonight. Trust me." She winked up at him.

Clyde blinked at Bebe a few times.

"Does that mean that you want to…?"

"No Clyde, you dork!" she laughed. "I'm your second. Don't you think that would be an ethical violation?"

"…Yes?"

"Exactly! But you have the entire cheer squad here, and not to brag or anything, but we're all cute as fuck, so march your silly ass into the kitchen and drink down as much alcohol as you need until you become the fun Clyde I know so well. Cause this whiny one sucks ass."

The song that was playing faded out and a new one began.

"That's my cue! Time to get back to partying! Hope to see you over there soon!"

Bebe jumped out of the chair and skipped back into the dancing mass. Clyde decided to take her advice and he headed in the direction of the kitchen once again. He noted that Kenny was leaning over Kevin's DJ table and talking to him. What was he up to?

Once in the kitchen, he picked up another cup, then stood in the doorway from the kitchen to the dining room. He watched Kenny as he nodded at Kevin and then made his way back to Red. He placed his hands on her hips as a guitar riff of a new song started. Clyde had never heard this one before, but judging by the look on Kenny's face, he must have requested it personally. It had a chill, laid back feel to it, but as Clyde listened, the lyrics were utter filth. Kenny had obviously picked it to fuck with Clyde.

"Ha. Kenny picked this, didn't he?" Cartman suddenly appeared next to Clyde.

"Yeah. How did you know?" asked Clyde.

"It's "Caress Me Down" by Sublime. Some weird reggae punk band from the nineties. Bunch of horny stoners or some shit. Kenny used to play this all the time from some ancient relic called a cassette. I guess it was his parents'. Anyway, the song's dirty as fuck."

"I can hear that," said Clyde, rolling his eyes.

"You know Spanish?" Cartman asked.

"No…but you do?"

"Hell yeah, I've been fluent since elementary school. If I'm going to hire Spanish-speaking workers, I should know the damn language."

"When did you…? Never mind. So what's so dirty about the parts in Spanish?"

"Basically the guy is singing about how much he loves pussy."

Clyde choked a little on a sip of beer. "Of course McCormick would request a song like this tonight. What a fucking asshole."

He looked back at Kenny who was currently grinding against Red, his mouth nestled against her neck. Clyde almost thought that Kenny had purposely positioned them so that they were facing toward him in the kitchen. He shook his head of the thought. Kenny was a devious bastard, but not an idiot. He had a hot girl in his arms. He had better things to think about than Clyde. Clyde honestly believed that. That was until Kenny opened his eyes and lifted his head, his gaze directly at Clyde. An evil grin appearing on his face when he saw that Clyde was looking right at him. Clyde crushed the cup in his hand and let it drop to the floor.

"Uh, are you okay, Clyde?" Cartman asked. "You look like you're about to punch someone. I can't have one of my star players getting into a fight. That wouldn't be good PR."

"Oh, there's going to be a fight, alright."

Before Cartman could object any further, Clyde did a hard walk through the living room and up to Kevin.

"Kevin!" he yelled over the loud music. "I need you to play something for me!"

Kenny had noticed Clyde's bull-like march through the living room. It was honestly pretty funny. He was having a remarkably good time with these jock kids. The cheerleaders loved him and the few footballers he'd talked to were warm and welcoming. He'd been keeping tabs on Clyde all night, and he was thoroughly entertained by how jealous he looked every time their eyes met. It already felt really good feeling up Red, but doing it while Clyde looked on in anger? Even better.

The song he'd requested began to fade out and a new song came in. Kenny paused his fondling for a moment. This guitar riff sounded familiar. Was this…Stevie Nicks? Edge of Seventeen? A killer song, but an odd one to be playing at a high school house party. Wait…no…these lyrics… This was…did Clyde serious request this?

 _"…can you handle this? I don't think they can handle this."_

Kenny let go of Red and stepped aside, crossing his arms. He watched as Clyde pushed through into the center of the group. Everyone who had been dancing immediately stopped and stared at Clyde. Clyde didn't move. He simply stared back at Kenny with clenched jaw. Kenny shook his head and smiled. What was that idiot thinking? Kenny couldn't decide if he was impressed by Clyde or embarrassed for him. He _had_ been trying to antagonize his from afar all night, and he had figured that Clyde would just act like a petulant child the entire time. He didn't actually expect Clyde to _do_ anything about it. That being said, Clyde tended to make himself look foolish when he was angry. Like right now. The look Clyde was giving him was so hot with fury that Kenny was surprised it didn't burn a hole in his shirt. There was something kind of cute about Clyde when he was pissed. He looked like an angry puppy. Kenny smiled back at him and gestured toward him with his hand, encouraging him to begin whatever it was that he planned to do.

Clyde began to swing his hips from side to side, somewhat awkwardly. His arms swung as well, in the opposite direction of his hips. It looked kind of pathetic. Like the sort of dancing a nerdy seventh grader would do at their first school dance. The other students stepped back to give him more room to dance, possibly to see what he might do next and possibly because they feared he might smack one of them in the face with a reckless arm swing.

 _"I don't think you're ready for this jelly…"_

Clyde suddenly burst out into the running man. For such a ridiculous joke of a dance move, it actually worked remarkably well for the song's chorus. The girls began to cheer at Clyde as he slowly became more comfortable. He spun around and bent over, resting his hands on his knees, and did a white boy version of twerking. Clyde kept turning back to leer at Kenny while he danced. Kenny covered his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter.

The football players who had been hanging out in the kitchen and around the edges of the room joined the group, curious at what their boy Clyde was doing. The space around him grew larger, and soon it became a dance circle with Clyde in the middle. Once Clyde realized that he was the center of attention, his face lit up and he stopped worrying about whether or not Kenny was watching him. He began to bust out all of the cheesy dance circle classics, like the robot and the worm. His worm wasn't very good, but no one cared. They cheered loudly and Clyde felt like he was on cloud nine.

Token and Nichole were snuggled up on the couch after their kitchen kisses had turned into a lengthy make out session in the living room. They watched Clyde through the gaps in the dance circle, laughing at their friend.

"He is so silly…and kind of dumb, but in a charming way, you know?" said Nichole.

"That's his entire brand. Charmingly dumb," Token laughed. "He sure knows how to make people smile, though."

Nichole ran her hand up and down Token's arm. "He's kinda cute, too." She turned to look at him and bit the middle of her bottom lip.

"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" he asked.

"Yeah. If you're okay with it."

"Definitely. He's one of my best friends. There's no one I would trust more," said Token.

"Great! Let's ask him later, then." She leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek before turning back to watch the dancing.

Kenny rubbed his chin in thought. The gears were turning as he came up with a counter attack to Clyde's impromptu dance-off. He jumped when he felt a large hand on his shoulder. It was Stan, who had woken up and finally joined the group.

"Wass go'n on?" Stan slurred.

"A dance circle, apparently. Hey, can you stand here and keep my spot warm for me? I'm gonna be right back."

Stan nodded at Kenny, who then left toward the kitchen. He returned dragging a wooden chair behind him. He moved up to Kevin's table and whispered something in his ear. Once Kevin nodded, Kenny pushed through his peers and into the dance circle, chair still in hand. Clyde furrowed his brow at Kenny in confusion and stopped dancing. He walked up to Kenny and stared him down, arms crossed.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing? This is my fucking moment!" Clyde's voice could barely be heard over the other sounds in the room.

Kenny stood on his toes and brought his mouth up to Clyde's ear. He wanted to make sure that Clyde could hear him perfectly.

"This is how it's done. Watch and learn, Donovan."

Clyde reluctantly took a position back in the circle, standing between Stan and Scott. His arms remained crossed in front of him, his lips pursed and brow still furrowed. Kenny placed the chair down and reached his hand out for Red. She hesitated for a moment as Clyde's song faded out and Kenny's newly requested song faded in. She slowly walked into the circle, giggling nervously.

"What is this? What are you doing, Kenny?"

"Take a seat, Red. I'm gonna dance for you."

He smiled and turned around, walking to the other side of the circle. Red covered her face with her hands in embarrassment as she sat down. Her friends cheered for her, making her blush even harder. Kenny turned around to face Red, slowly closed his eyes, and ran his hand through his hair. He opened his eyes and stared directly at her.

 _"I feel like I've been locked up tight for a century of lonely nights, waiting for someone to release me…"_

Kenny started slow. The upside to being a musician was that he knew how to build the tension in a song. He moved down into a crouching position with his knees spread apart. As his dropped down, his hands glided along his jean-clad thighs. He ran a thumb over his lips and blew a kiss at Red along with the lyrics, smirking when she sank into her chair, writhing around in embarrassment. If everything went right, by the end of the song, she'd be putty in his hands, and Clyde would be green with envy. He slowly stood back up, dragging his nails up his legs as he did.

 _"Ooo~ooh, my body's saying let's go…"_

His hands didn't stop moving once his was standing up. One moved up to rub along his stomach while the other slid up across his chest. He began to move closer to Red as he touched himself, stopping when he was directly in front of her. As the chorus hit, he placed his hands on the top of the chair and swung his left leg across Red so that he was straddling her lap. He began to roll his body along with the music. Red peeked through her fingers and mouthed _Oh my god_ when she saw what Kenny was currently doing. She dropped her hands from her face, still flushed with embarrassment, and looked up at him. Kenny kept his eyes on Red, mouthing _Hi_ and wagging his eyebrows.

 _"I'm a genie in a bottle, you gotta rub me the right way…"_

When the chorus finished, he quickly leapt away from Red and began to dance around the circle. Everyone seemed to be getting into the spectacle, no matter their gender. The energy of the room and the fact that everyone was fairly liquored up helped. When the song reached the chorus once again, he returned to Red, this time just barely sitting on her lap, facing away from her. Kenny began to unbutton his shirt while grinding his ass against her thighs. When his shirt was open, he picked up both of her hands and stroked her hands against his exposed skin. He felt her spread her legs a little bit underneath him and felt her breathing heavy against his neck. She was almost ready.

Kenny slipped out of Red's grasp and spun around to face her. He rolled his hips to the music as he slid his shirt off completely. He wound up the shirt and flung it forward into the dance circle. It hit Clyde in the face, which gave Kenny added enjoyment. He continued to dance to the music until it reached the chorus one final time. He dropped to his knees and rolled his hips while he slowly leaned backward, running his hands over his body, until he was flat against the floor. He arched his back while he rose upright, then smacked his hands down on the floor in front of him. As the chorus repeated, he slinked toward Red on all fours, his eyes not leaving hers. He could see her hands trembling and her chest heaving. It was subtle, but he could tell. Her mouth was slightly open. Always a good sign. He was ready to go in for the kill.

 _"Just come and set me free, baby, and I'll be with you…"_

He crept up to Red and placed his hands on her knees. He gently pressed on the inside of her knees and her thighs spread open easily. He crawled in between her legs, his eyes locked on hers, and rubbed his cheek against her inner thigh. He was dangerously close to her pussy. He could smell that she was already aroused. Mission accomplished.

The song ended and then there was silence. Kevin didn't have a new song ready. The students in the circle weren't even cheering anymore. Everyone was speechless and staring at Kenny and Red, who didn't move after the song ended. Kenny just lingered there between her legs. It was like each and every student was holding their breath, waiting to see what was going to happen next. Were they about to watch their classmates have sex? The mood in the room sure felt like that was about to happen.

"Oh god-fucking-dammit, just get a fucking room!" Clyde yelled, breaking the tension in the air.

Laughter broke out among the students and Kevin finally got a new song started as everyone began to disperse throughout the house once again. Stan leaned against Clyde and patted him on the chest.

"I'll, uh, see you around, buddy. I, uh…I gotta go…I'm gonna call Ky-, uh…no…Wen…yeah Wendy…I'm gonna call Wendy…"

He staggered away up the stairs toward his room.

"Well shit," Scott said next to Clyde. "That was pretty good. Even I want to have sex with Kenny now."

"Shut up, Scott. You have diabetes," Clyde scoffed.

"I really don't see what having diabetes has to do with this."

He gave Clyde a dirty look and left to continue dancing with the rest of the cheer squad. Clyde was left alone, still staring at Kenny and Red, and still awkwardly holding Kenny's discarded shirt. Kenny finally stood up and took Red's hands in his, helping her up out of her chair.

"Do you wanna go upstairs?" She squeezed his hands. They felt warm and soft.

"I'd love nothing more." Kenny smiled and brought one of her hands up to his mouth to kiss it.

Red led the way as they moved toward the stairs. Kenny lingered back at the base of the stairs while she continued up. He glanced over at Clyde to make sure he was watching. Kenny held up his index and middle fingers in a V while holding Clyde's gaze. He stuck out his tongue and slowly licked up the empty space between his fingers, grinning, and then pulling his index finger down to flip Clyde off. He blew a furious, red-faced Clyde a kiss before he ran up the stairs after Red.


	7. Chapter Six

Clyde squeezed his hands into fists and grit his teeth. He loudly grumbled incoherently, but everyone else was too busy dancing, making out, or returning to get more drinks. That son of a bitch. It was bad enough that he was clearly going to score the first point, but he went out of his way to put on that lewd display. That stunt may have cost him his own chance at hooking up with someone tonight! How could he compete with Kenny's shirtless lap dance? Sure, it _was_ kind of sexy, but that was only because Red was really into it, probably.

Clyde huffed and went to sit down on the now-empty couch that Token and Nichole had been occupying. They had quickly left the party right after the lap dance was done. Most likely to fuck in Token's new car, the rich bastard. Clyde watched his peers dancing and felt a little jealous. This was his senior year and it was already off to an awful start. Look at them. Not a care in the world. They probably didn't have secret sex bets with horrible excuses for human beings. They were just young and wild on a Saturday at two in the morning. It must be nice, being so carefree. Clyde stared at Bebe in the hopes that she'd make eye contact and come over for another pep talk, but she was too busy grinding up on Scott.

He sighed and leaned on the arm of the couch. It was then that he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Kenny's button up shirt. It was still crumpled on the floor where Clyde had thrown it earlier after Kenny had tossed it at his face. Kenny hadn't picked it up before he went upstairs. Clyde stared at it, thinking about what he could do to the shirt as a form of revenge. If he couldn't grab a point tonight, the least he could do is figure out a way to make him feel better about being behind.

It had to be something awful, but somewhat subtle. Spilling ink on it would be too obvious. Cutting holes in it would probably get the same results that it did in _Mean Girls_ —Kenny would just wear it confidently and start a stupid new trend. Clyde's eyes lit up when he finally thought of the perfect thing to do with the shirt.

He jumped off the couch and grabbed the piece of clothing from the floor. Moving over to a dark corner of the room, Clyde turned to face the wall and unzipped his pants. He glanced over his shoulder at his friends as he stuffed Kenny's shirt into his underwear. He adjusted it so that the shirt was touching as much skin as possible, and hastily zipped himself back up. It was a strange feeling, having all this extra clothing down there. It didn't leave much room for Little Clyde to breathe, but this was a necessary sacrifice.

Clyde smiled and turned back to the dance floor. It was time to get his groove on and dance up a sweat.

* * *

"Okay, so that's clearly Stan's room…"

Kenny saw Red closing a door when he reached the top of the stairs. Red had a slightly embarrassed, slightly amused look on her face. He knew that it was Stan's room from all the sleepovers he'd had there growing up, but he was still curious about what had caused Red to react that way.

"How can you tell?" he asked.

Red held her hands up over her mouth. Kenny loved the mischievous look in her eyes. Why had he never thought to hook-up with her before? Or at least get to know her more as a person? Their brief interactions as children weren't really enough to call them friends, and ever since Kenny discovered the drums and Red got serious about cheering, they barely interacted at all outside of class. She slowly dropped her hands from her mouth.

"Because Stan is currently jacking off in there."

Kenny and Red stared at each other for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"You'd think he would've gone to Wendy's house if he was feeling horny, but knowing him, he's probably too drunk to perform tonight," said Kenny. "Okay, so if we can't use his room…"

Kenny rubbed his chin trying to decide which was worse between Shelley's room or Stan's parents' room, but Red didn't waste any time. She turned the doorknob to the parents' room and grinned at Kenny as she pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

Kenny bit his lower lip. "Just like that, huh?" he said softly.

He followed suit, walking through the door and closing it behind him. The room was dark. The only source of light was coming in from the one window. Kenny flipped the light switch on the wall next to him. With the room lit, he found Red already seated on the corner of the queen sized bed. She was subtly wiggling back and forth, and it looked like she could pounce on him at any moment.

"So…here we are," he purred.

"I don't have time for more seduction. Get on over here so I can take your pants off," said Red.

"Are you always this forward?" Kenny raised an eyebrow at her. "How much have you had to drink tonight?"

"Yes, I am always this forward, and I only had like half of the beer you gave me when we first got here. I don't really like to drink when I know I'm going to hookup with someone. I like to remember my sexual encounters."

"Oh? So you thought this was going to be a sure thing tonight?"

"Mmhmm. It was obvious once I felt your boner grinding against my ass while we were dancing."

Kenny laughed and nodded. "Outed by my dick. I'm surprised you were able to feel that through the jeans."

"You were grinding into me pretty damn hard, Kenny."

"Touché."

He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She tilted her head up and parted her lips. Kenny leaned down and kissed her, tasting a hint of artificial raspberry from her lip gloss. When he felt her already undoing the button on his jeans, he finally got the hint that she wasn't playing around. He upped the intensity of the kiss, his tongue tracing along her bottom lip. He smiled against her mouth when he felt her tongue touch his own. Red shimmied his jeans down his legs until they hit the floor. She placed her hands on his hips while he worked on kicking them off. She then abruptly pulled away from the kiss, causing Kenny to let out a whine.

Red glanced at Kenny's underwear and cocked her head. "Really? Briefs? I'd always pegged you for a boxers kind of guy."

Kenny stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips.

"They're from a ten for fifteen dollars pack I got at Target. Does that turn you on, baby?"

Red pursed her lips in an attempt to not giggle. "No. No it does not."

Kenny leaned back down, his lips hovering by her ear. "What if I told you it was also a bonus pack with two extra pairs?" he whispered.

"Oh god, yes!" Red cried out, making them both laugh.

Red scooted back onto the bed while Kenny pulled off his affordably priced briefs. She let out a soft moan of approval when his cock sprung out.

"Like what you see?"

She responded with a smirk and took off her shirt. Once she could see again, she smiled even harder when she saw the hungry look on Kenny's face.

"Like what _you_ see?" she giggled.

"Hell yeah."

She leaned back onto her elbows as Kenny crawled onto the bed. He smoothed a hand over the lacy fabric of her bra, admiring how perfect her breasts were. Not too big, not too small, and almost impossibly round. He had seen a lot of breasts in his life so far, in person or from some form of media, and he mentally filed Red's away easily in the top ten favorites. He knew he had to see them out of their pretty cage.

He wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her close to him. While his dexterous fingers worked to unhook her bra, he buried his face into her neck. Sucking at her delicate pale skin, leaving tiny kisses over the dark pink marks he left behind, he finally slipped her straps off and threw the discarded piece of clothing behind him. He moaned into her neck when he felt her soft breasts press against his chest.

He sat up and looked down at the beautiful person in front of him. _Fuck_ , she was sexy as hell. Kenny made a mental note that he should thank Clyde for getting him involved in his stupid game. He never would have seen all of this if it weren't for him.

Kenny slid his hands up Red's skirt and slipped his fingers under the hem of her panties. He could feel the lace against his fingertips and smiled. Red did seem like the sort of girl who would wear a matching bra and panty set. He slowly pulled the fabric down, his nails lightly scratching against her thighs as he did. He enjoyed watching her squirm at his touch. He could feel how wet her panties had gotten as he tossed them aside. God _damn,_ she was going to feel so good.

Red went to pull down her skirt, but Kenny gently placed his hands on hers.

"Would you be okay keeping it on? It's fucking hot."

"Sure," she replied. Kenny noticed a bit of a blush across her cheeks. It was incredibly cute.

Red bit her lip and stared at Kenny for a moment. He was perplexed by what could be going through her mind, but also ridiculously turned on for the same reason. She broke into a grin.

"Lie on your back," she said.

Kenny did as he was told, pushing himself up on the bed and lying back, his hands resting back behind his head. He grinned and wagged his eyebrows at her.

"Don't get too cocky, buddy," she said, crawling over him. "This isn't going to be a lie back and let her do all the work situation."

"I think I'd feel insulted if it was. As someone who hates guys who don't put in the effort, I have to prove that I'm not one of them."

Red found it a little funny at how serious Kenny looked. She supposed that he tried to give one hundred percent in everything he did. He _was_ always trying to prove himself in English class, and he clearly put in the effort for band.

She lifted her skirt and placed her knees on either side of his head. She looked down and saw him smile. A rush of excitement ran through her body at the twinkle in his eyes. She felt his hands grab ahold of her thighs and help her lower herself down until her pussy met his mouth.

She let out a squeak when she felt his tongue slip between her lips. Clamping her hands over her mouth at first, she gradually became more relaxed as the sensations between her legs intensified. She lowered her hands, pressing them against the wall in front of her to brace herself. Her hips began to rock back and forth, Kenny's tongue rubbing against her sensitive clit with each pass.

Kenny used one of his hands to pull the hem of her skirt away from his eyes so that he could get a better look at Red. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, tiny whimpers emanating from her throat. Her tits looked amazing. Round, full, soft, and her nipples were dark and erect. He reflexively tried to move an arm, wanting badly to reach up and touch one, but then immediately remembered that his arms were pinned by her thighs.

Red felt the movement and opened her eyes.

"Focus on the task at hand, boy," she laughed.

She shifted her weight back a little and dropped her hands from the wall. She looked down at Kenny's face, slightly covered by her skirt, and smiled. She brought a hand down to gently stroke his messy hair, but then laced her fingers through and tightened her fist. She faintly heard Kenny moan underneath her and felt the vibrations against her pussy.

"So you like it a little rough, eh? I'll have to keep that in mind for next time," she said.

She let go of his hair and swung one of her legs over his body so that she was kneeling by his side.

"Next time? Are we done?" asked Kenny.

"Nah, just a change in position. And _if_ there is a next time. You know, if you're interested."

She swung her other leg back over his head so that she was now facing away from the wall. She lowered her body down onto his and grabbed his dick in her hand. Kenny's hips bucked up at the touch.

"I like your style," he mumbled against her pussy.

She noticed that he had begun to get a bit soft while he was eating her out. She ran her tongue along the bottom of his member before slipping it into her mouth. He began to harden up again between her soft lips. He grabbed her ass with his hands and worked faster on his end, licking and sucking at her clit. Kenny could feel Red's body tightening on top of him, her muscles tense and ready to release. He heard her moan, low and deep, as she came. It was a huge turn on for him to have a girl come while she was sucking his dick. As he took a few final slow laps between her legs, he mentally cursed himself again for having never pursued her in the past.

She finally pulled her mouth off, playfully flicking her tongue against the tip. She rolled off of him and maneuvered herself around so that she could lean down to gently kiss him.

"Normally I like to make out a little more in between, but I really want to get fucked right now," she said softly after breaking the kiss.

Kenny's eyes widened for a second. He was honestly taken aback with such a forward statement after such a sweet kiss. His eyes returned to normal, a smirk growing on his lips.

"You don't need to tell me twice," he said.

He grabbed her around her waist and pulled her down onto the bed. Red squealed at the sudden movement. Looking up at him, she bit her bottom lip and Kenny saw a mischievous look in her eye. She suddenly flipped over so that she was on her stomach and pushed herself onto her hands and knees. She turned her head to the side, trying to look at Kenny behind her.

"Mm, I think I would like it this way tonight, if that's okay."

Kenny took a moment to admire Red's ass in the skirt. In that position, it was the perfect shape. It even looked tight enough to bounce a quarter off of, but he didn't have any on him to try. Years of cheering probably helped her get that butt. Kenny wondered if all of the other cheerleaders had similar booties.

"Uh, yeah. That is more than okay," he finally answered. "Gimme a sec to grab a condom from my wallet."

Red turned back to face forward.

"Okay, I'll be right here…"

She teasingly wiggled her hips while she waited. Kenny groaned and bit his knuckle to try to prevent himself from mounting her right then, saying _fuck it_ to safe sex.

He turned away and picked up his pants, rummaging through for the condom he always kept in his wallet—cause you never know. His cell phone dropped out of his other pocket onto the floor. He stared at it for a moment, then glanced over to Red's provocative position, then back to the phone. He grit his teeth as he removed the condom and put his wallet back. At the last second, he decided to go for it.

"Hey Red? Would it be okay if I took some pics of us on my phone?"

"Yeah sure, just hurry up and get over here!"

Kenny grabbed his phone and crawled back up onto the bed. He positioned himself behind Red and opened his camera app. He ran one of his hands up the back of her thigh. Her skin was smooth and soft against his rough hands. Years of playing drums had left calluses on his hands, but no one he'd been with had ever complained. He pushed his hand up under Red's skirt, flipping it up onto her back. He held the phone in the other hand and silently took a picture.

Putting the phone down next to him, he tore open the condom and rolled it on. He held his cock in place and slowly pushed inside of her. He slipped in easily, but she still felt tight against him. Kenny felt Red push back against his pelvis to make sure that he was completely inside of her. He placed a hand on her hip and grabbed his phone again. He took a few more photos of him inside of her and then tossed the phone to the floor. He wasn't here for a photoshoot. He was here to get her to moan his name.

He grabbed her hips with both hands and actually began to thrust. He started slowly at first, letting her get used to the feeling of him, even though her body was more than ready at this point. She moved her hips back to meet his thrusts. With each stroke, her moans got a little louder. Red placed a hand out on the headboard to steady her balance as Kenny moved faster. Her pussy was so warm and tight, Kenny started to let out some moans himself as he got closer to climax. By this point, Red was letting some swears escape and Kenny's name followed a few of them. He felt nourished by the sound.

"I… _ahh_ …I hope that Stan is… _oh fuck_ …enjoying our sounds," she gasped out.

Kenny laughed. "I bet he is." _If he hasn't passed the fuck out yet_ , Kenny thought.

Red lowered her chest onto the bed and slipped an arm underneath her body. With her hand between her legs, she began to rub circles around her clit. Her breathing was becoming more erratic, and he could feel her pelvic muscles squeezing tighter around him. He dug his fingers into her hips and thrust as fast and as hard as he could, trying to find that right spot to take her over the edge.

He knew he found it when all she could manage to say was his name over and over. The sound of her crying out as she came, plus the sudden extra slickness, helped Kenny reach his own climax a few moments later.

Kenny leaned down to place small kisses along Red's spine. She let out a blissful sigh and let her body collapse onto the bed. The sight of her spent—hair disheveled, arms and legs spread out—was beautiful. Kenny hopped off the bed and grabbed his clothes and phone before exiting the room. He sighed, wishing that the Marshes had a master bathroom attached so that he didn't have to leave Red completely alone to go clean up.

Once inside the bathroom, he pulled off the condom and tossed it in the trash. While wiping off his softening member, he got a wonderful, awful idea. He had wanted to take the photos for his own personal collection, but he realized that he could also use them to fuck with Clyde. He got his number from Craig after this whole stupid contest began. He had figured it'd probably come in handy at some point, and here it was. Kenny finished washing and drying his hands before picking up his phone.

He sent three pictures—one of his hand on Red's ass, one close-up of him inside of her, and one picture he had taken like a selfie, holding the camera above his head to get a more full body shot of him fucking her. He ended it by texting _I just got some good pussy. What did you do tonight, Donovan?_ He had a feeling that would get under Clyde's skin.

When Kenny returned from the bathroom, he noticed that Red was still lying on the bed. He figured that she would have started to get dressed. Her head was slightly angled away from him, but he could tell that she had a somber look on her face. Kenny felt a heaviness in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really hoped that she wasn't regretting this now that the high was gone.

He walked over to the bed and lied down next to her.

"Whatcha thinking?" he asked.

Nothing.

"Gee, I was that bad, huh?"

He heard Red softly snort. It was a few more moments before she rolled over onto her back and looked at him.

"No. You were wonderful. I just…"

Kenny studied her face while she tried to find the right words. He saw something in her eyes that felt familiar. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, but he felt a closeness to Red in that moment.

"I just get like this sometimes. After…you know. After hooking up with someone. I'm afraid to go downstairs, honestly. Stan's parents won't be home until tomorrow, so it's not like I couldn't just hide in here until the party's over…right?"

Kenny managed a weak smile. "I'm not sure that's really a great idea. Stan's going to have a massive hangover in a few hours, and I don't know if you want to be around for that. He becomes a whiny little bitch."

When he couldn't get a laugh out of Red with that comment, he continued.

"Can I ask why you're afraid? Everyone down there is your friend."

Red briefly made eye contact with him, but quickly averted her glance.

"I'm worried about what people will think about me. I know that sounds ridiculous because they _are_ my friends, but let's be real. It's obvious we came up here to fuck. If everyone else hadn't been there earlier, I would've fucked you right there on the floor. It's not like I could try to pass it off as we just made out some or only got to second base."

"If you want to say that's what we did, I can totally go along with that story. I'm not really a guy who feels the need to brag about who he's had sex with," Kenny said, trying to be supportive.

 _Except to Clyde_ , he thought. _Then I'll never stop bragging_.

Red shook her head. "No. No one will ever believe that. We both have a reputation. I know what people at school think about me. I hear the things they whisper to each other. I know I shouldn't let it affect me, but it does. I _do_ love sex, but I don't want to feel ashamed for loving it. I so badly want to be sex positive and shrug off their words, but that's easier said than done."

"I know how you feel," said Kenny. "I know it's not a big secret that I get around a lot, but I didn't realize until this week that a majority of people at school see me as only that. I never thought something like that would bother me. Having a reputation as a guy who hooks up with a lot of people, I mean. Most guys would probably be proud of it. It's actually made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I want to be known for my musical skill, and as a guy who's trying his best to make a better life for himself and his sister. I don't want to be remembered just as a guy who knew how to use his dick. It sucks."

Red smiled sadly at Kenny.

"I appreciate the sentiment, really I do, but…it's different for girls. As a guy, you potentially have other guys looking at you as someone to celebrate or envy. For most guys, being known as someone who had a lot of sex is a goal, not a negative. For girls, if you get a reputation as someone who has a lot of sex, it can alienate female friends, it can turn off guys who may have wanted to date you because they think you won't be faithful or you're 'dirty and used', and it can make yourself an even bigger target for harassment and abuse because 'you're a slut, you obviously want it'."

Red looked away, wistful.

She finally sighed, rolled over, and got up out of the bed.

"Thank you for talking to me about it, though. Most guys just leave right after they come, and I'm stuck alone in my head. It really sucks in there sometimes, you know?"

"Now _that_ , I definitely know the feeling of," said Kenny, managing a small laugh.

He briefly watched as Red grabbed her panties and proceeded to put them back on. He turned away, feeling that it wasn't quite right to watch her get dressed after everything she had said. Kenny felt awful. The sex was great, but he didn't want Red's night to end like this while he simply went home and slept, feeling good about himself. He had to do something to make this right for her.

By the time she was slipping her shoes back onto her feet, Kenny started to laugh. She looked over at him, perplexed.

"I have an idea. I don't want you to remember this night in any other way but fondly. If you're afraid to go downstairs alone, let's go together," he said.

"Kenny, I don't know how much that will help."

"If we go down together and make a big ridiculous spectacle out of it, people will hopefully remember the humor and fun of that, and not the bullshit judgment. Do you trust me?"

Red hesitated. She gnawed at the corner of her lip. She tried to think of a reason that she shouldn't trust Kenny right then, but couldn't come up with one. She nodded her head and sat down on the corner of the bed.

"Okay. Tell me more about this plan."

* * *

Clyde had been grinding up against Bebe for a few songs now, and was beginning to get aroused. Given the way that Bebe's body was moving against his, he had a feeling that she was, too. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and mumbled into her ear.

"Are you _sure_ you're not interested in hooking up tonight, Bebe?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't really into this right now—it brings back fond memories of when we were together—but I'm one hundred percent sure that we're not fucking tonight."

"Mehhh," Clyde pouted.

"But I do want to keep dancing like this, as long as you do. Why don't you go request a song?"

Clyde leaned forward and lightly kissed her cheek. He pulled back from the cluster of people dancing and headed over to Kevin's DJ station. He saw Kevin put down his phone and smile to himself.

"Hey Kev, can I request a slow jam? Like…any one really, as long as it's sexy."

Kevin chuckled to himself and nodded. "Yeah, I'll get that going for you in a bit. I have a few requests ahead of it."

"Okay, cool. Thanks."

Clyde continued to stare at Kevin while he clicked through the musical library on his computer, still chuckling to himself under his breath.

"What's so funny, dude?" Clyde asked. He leaned over the table and tried to get a look at the monitor.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Kevin shooed Clyde away from his electronics. "This shit is expensive and this table isn't exactly the sturdiest, so don't lean on it. Also, you'll see what's so funny in about three minutes."

"You suck, Kevin!"

"Do you want to take that back? I don't _have_ to accept requests, you know, so if you really want a slow jam to rub your dick against Bebe's ass some more…"

Clyde's eyes widened and his face flushed. "Shit! I'm sorry Kev! You don't suck, I suck!"

Kevin crossed his arms and smiled. "That's better. Request granted. Now go over there and dance, you dork."

Clyde opened his mouth, wanting to comment on how it was ironic that the computer science kid was calling the jock a dork, but he quickly shut it and went back to dancing.

Not five minutes later, the pulsing synth of a new song began.

" _Sometimes…something beautiful happens in this world…"_

Clyde smiled. He couldn't place where he knew the song, but it sounded familiar, and the opening lines of the song were positive and sounded hopeful. He felt like he really needed that right now.

" _You don't know how to express yourself, so…you just gotta sing!"_

The rest of the students seemed to know the song, as the cheerleaders began to scream and most of the football players came into the living room to join in the revelry. Clyde felt a little awkward, like he was the only one who didn't get an inside joke. He _knew_ he knew the song, but he just couldn't quite place it.

He didn't have an opportunity to figure it out before there was a loud thump behind him and the other students erupted into cheers.

" _I just had sex, and it felt so good!"_

Clyde spun around and saw that Kenny had jumped over the staircase railing. His arms were up in the air and he was swaying back and forth to the music in victory. Clyde raised his eyebrow when he noticed that Kenny was also mouthing the lyrics to the song. Was he seriously doing this right now? The strip show wasn't enough? He had to rub it in Clyde's face one final time? Clyde grit his teeth, but took a deep breath and stayed remarkably calm.

 _"It felt so good when I did it with my penis. A girl let me do it, it literally just happened…"_

Kenny began to dance in front of the railing, continuing to mouth the lyrics as the verse began. Red then appeared behind him, coming down the stairs and shaking her head. They both pointed upstairs on the line _it literally just happened,_ which made their friends cheer even louder.

 _"So this one's dedicated to them girls that let us flop around on top of them…"_

Kenny put his arm around Red's waist and pulled her in close. She rolled her eyes and pretended to push him away, but her smile gave away that she was playing a part. She eventually slipped her arm around him in return and they began to both actually sing the song, with exceptional gusto.

 _"I just had sex and my dreams came true, so if you had sex in the last thirty minutes then you're qualified to sing with me!"_

The coincidental timing was like a sitcom, but Token and Nichole burst in through the front door right as the song hit the final chorus. The two of them were singing at the top of their lungs, confirming Clyde's previous suspicion of where they had run off to. Their energy led the others to join in singing. Clyde shook his head. Didn't they hear the lyrics? They could only sing if they had sex within the last half an hour. Clyde had been with these assholes for the past thirty minutes and, unless they had perfected secret dance-fucking, there was no sex had by any of them.

Clyde sighed and stepped out from the group. He knew that everyone was having fun and Bebe had told him to lighten up tonight, but this was feeling overwhelming to him. He moved into the kitchen to take a breather.

Once he calmed down, he remembered that Kenny's shirt was still in his pants. Honestly, all of the dancing and grinding had distracted him and he had gotten used to the feeling of it there. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper. He pulled on the fabric until the entire shirt was out, then held it between his knees while he adjusted himself, then re-zipped and buttoned his pants. He took the smelly dick-sweat shirt in his hands and muttered _perfect_. That's when he heard the loud sound of a straw sucking the last drops of liquid out of a cup.

Clyde spun around to find Cartman standing on the opposite side of the room, cup in hand.

"How long have you been there?" asked Clyde.

"Since you last talked to me."

"So…you just saw all of that."

"Yup."

"Okay, Cartman, I know it looks weird, but I have a totally good reason for-"

Cartman held up his hand to interrupt Clyde.

"Look Clyde, I'm not about to kink shame one of my best players. Whatever you need to do to get off…you do you, dude. We're already one and zero, so clearly it's working. Just don't do a Hot Cosby, alright? It's a PR nightmare."

Clyde stared blankly at Cartman. "Uh…yeah…I promise I won't do any Hot Cosbies."

"Okay good. Be on your way, then."

Clyde watched as Cartman grabbed another soda and began to slurp it down with a crazy straw. He shook his head, trying to wrap his brain around what just happened. Realizing that he'd never truly understand what goes on in Cartman's head, he quickly left the kitchen and ran right into Token and Nichole.

"Hey! Where'd you disappear to, man?" asked Token.

"Me? I've been here the whole time and just ducked into the kitchen for a minute. Where did _you_ disappear to, dude? Wait, no, don't answer that, already I know where you two went."

Clyde sighed, frustrated. Token and Nichole looked at one another with concern.

"I'm sorry. I've been having a weird night. I, uh…I'm feeling kinda down right now, so I think I'm gonna head home."

"Alrighty. Take care of yourself, Clyde." Nichole opened up her arms for a Grade A Donovan hug. "Get some rest, okay? You've had a long day."

"I'll text you tomorrow." Token slapped Clyde on the back as he broke the hug with Nichole.

"Yeah, man. Thanks. You guys have fun. I just have one more thing to do before I go. "

Clyde looked past his friends and focused on his target across the room. He slipped past them and walked straight toward Kenny.

Kenny broke his hug with Red. "I think it worked?" he laughed. "Everyone seemed to get into singing along with the song and now no one even seems to remember why it was playing in the first place."

"Yeah…so far, so good, at least!" She smiled warmly at Kenny. "Thank you. For everything tonight. It was nice talking to you after all the other stuff. I don't have many close male friends because they're usually only trying to fuck me. So…I guess what I'm trying to say is, I hope that I can call you a friend, and if you ever want to chat about whatever, you have my number."

"Yeah. I'd like that."

"You're a good guy, Kenny McCormick," she said, clapping her hand on Kenny's back.

"You're a good woman, Red…uh…dude, what _is_ your last name, anyway?" he asked.

Red brushed her hair aside and smiled playfully. "I'm like Beyonce. I don't need a last name. It's a branding thing."

"Yeah, but Beyonce actually has a—"

" _I said it's a branding thing!_ " she said quickly, laughing.

Red felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she found Clyde towering behind her.

"Hey Red, could I talk to McCormick for a sec?" he asked.

"Yeah, go right ahead." She turned back to Kenny and touched his shoulder. "I'm gonna go back to dancing. I'll see you around!"

Kenny watched as she disappeared into the mass of dancing students. He turned back to Clyde and folded his arms.

"What do you want, Donovan?"

"Nothing from you, asshole. I'm just trying to give you your damn shirt back. You left it on the floor and I found it. I'm trying to be fucking nice."

Clyde shoved the shirt into Kenny's arms.

"Thanks," Kenny muttered.

Clyde then leaned in close to look Kenny in the eyes.

"You may have won this round, McCormick, but don't get too cocky. Cause you're not going to win the game. I win games. You saw proof of that earlier tonight."

He stood up straight and stepped back.

"I'm going home, so enjoy the rest of your victory lap while it lasts."

Clyde turned on his heel and headed toward the door. He turned around to close the door and caught a glimpse of Kenny putting on the shirt and smelling the fabric with a confused and disgusted look on his face. As he approached his car, Clyde smiled. At least now the night wasn't a complete disaster.


	8. Chapter Seven

Clyde fell face first into his bed as soon as he got home. He woke up hours later when Mr. Tucker decided to mow the lawn. He rubbed his eyes and tried to blink the sleep away. When he sat up and his head began to pound, the memories of the party flooded back into his consciousness. Sure, he had had a lot of fun with Bebe and the cheerleaders, but he had left Stan's house point-less. Clyde had no definitive proof that Red had slept with Kenny, but he also didn't think that Kenny would have devised some elaborate plan to make Clyde _think_ that he had scored a point, when in reality, he hadn't.

Clyde sighed and grabbed his phone. He grimaced when he discovered the battery had died overnight. He quickly plugged it in and decided that he might as well go downstairs to get something to eat.

When he entered the kitchen, he found his dad making a sandwich.

"So you _are_ alive," Mr. Donovan chuckled.

"What time is it, anyway?" Clyde asked. "My phone died, so I didn't get to check."

"There's an alarm clock in your room. You could have just…" Mr. Donovan sighed. "Anyway, it's about noon. What time did you get home last night? I thought you were going to sleep over the Marsh's house?"

"I think it was about three, three thirty. And yeah, that had been the plan, but…some stuff happened and I wasn't really having fun anymore, so I walked home. I'll grab E. Honda from Stan's house later today."

"Well, I'm glad you got home safe. You know I worry about you all the time, Clyde. It's a parent thing."

Clyde began to hover next to his father, eyeballing the sandwich that he was making.

"I'm taking this as you'd like me to make you one?" he asked.

"Yes please!" Clyde chirped.

The two of them sat together and ate lunch. Clyde told him all about the game, since his dad had to run the store Friday night and hadn't been able to attend. His dad said he'd asked one of the parents to send him the video, because in this day and age, someone definitely filmed it on their phone. It was a nice moment between father and son.

Once Clyde was finished, he excused himself and ran back upstairs. He grabbed his phone and turned it on, now that it was fully charged. He flopped onto his bed, ready to browse Youtube for any new viral videos. While he was scrolling down the trending list, a text notification suddenly popped onto his phone.

It was from Kenny.

"I should have never agreed to sharing my number with that fucker," Clyde mumbled to himself.

He rolled his eyes and opened the app.

 _Ignore these texts. This was a mistake. Delete the photos, Donovan. And if you even think about sharing these with anyone else, I'll cut your fucking dick off. Got it?_

Clyde furrowed his brow in confusion more than anger. What the hell was Kenny getting on about anyway? Clyde scrolled up to try to figure out what Kenny was taking about, and got an eyeful of genitals. Upon further inspection, Clyde realized that these genitals belonged to two of his fellow students.

What the fuck? Kenny had had the audacity to take pictures of him and Red having sex?! What an asshole! …And also a master of charisma, apparently. How the hell did he convince Red to let him take these? Is that something girls are really into? Clyde had never tried bringing it up before. Unless Kenny took them without Red knowing? He probably did just that…because he's an asshole!

The very top of the text from Kenny read _I just got some good pussy. What did you do tonight, Donovan?_ Of course it fucking did. McCormick had only done this to get into his head. He wanted Clyde to feel the agony of defeat early and frequently. He probably figured that if he got enough points early on, Clyde would give up on the whole thing. Well, that was a bad plan because it only fueled Clyde to want it even more. He had meant every word that he had said to Kenny before he left the party. Clyde Donovan is a man who keeps playing until the final second and makes sure he secures that win.

Clyde sighed. This certainly was not what he expected to see on his phone today, or any day for that matter. He rolled over onto his back. Still…as he stared at the pictures—they were already sent to his phone, it was harmless if he took a little peek, right?—he had to admit that they were pretty hot. Red had an amazing body, and Clyde was legitimately jealous of Kenny for getting to hook up with her.

He was also jealous of Kenny for his own body. Clyde bristled as he stared at the picture of Kenny's chest and abs. He was slender and perfect, but he still had muscle definition. How the fuck did Kenny McCormick have muscle definition? He'd only brought bologna or peanut butter sandwiches to school for years, and that wasn't nearly enough protein to build muscle. But somehow, he ended up with this tight little body.

Clyde grumbled to himself and looked down at his own soft midsection. Underneath was strong muscle, but no one who ever saw him with his shirt off would be able to tell. _I really need to go on a diet_ , he thinks to himself. _And work out more…and stop eating Taco Bell even though it's so good…and I should go for runs more often…like right now…yeah, a run, that's a great idea_.

Clyde put his phone down and sat up with the full intention of heading out for a run. That is, until he realized that he had a full on erection. Dammit, why did he have a hard on right _now_ of all times? He fell back onto his bed and picked up his phone once more. It was because he had been looking at these pictures of Red getting railed. Yes. That was obviously the reason why his dick was straining against his pants at this very moment.

 _It's not weird to jerk off to pictures of people you know having sex…right?_ Clyde thought to himself. _People send nudes all the time…this is normal nowadays…it's not creepy if I use it as porn…_

Whether or not Clyde was fully convinced, his pants were already unbuttoned and his hand was already wrapped around himself. A quick jerk never hurt anyone, and there was no time like the present for getting out whatever fantasies about Red were lurking in the recesses of his mind. His large hand wrapped around his cock and lazily stroked up and down the shaft.

He admired the soft curve of Red's hips and ass in the first photo. Clyde usually considered himself a tit man foremost, which made him disappointed that he wasn't able to see her front, but he also appreciated a fine ass. He could imagine how plush and pliable Red's was by the way that Kenny's long calloused fingers squeezed into her flesh.

The second picture. Clyde began to stroke himself faster as he gawked at how Red's pussy seemed to swallow dick whole. Her wet lips wrapped around Kenny's cock, gripping tight and not letting go. A perfect fit. A moan escaped Clyde's lips. _Fuck,_ he wanted to feel that, too.

Quickly swiping to the third photo as he felt himself getting closer, Clyde felt a spark run through him. He grunted and scowled at the picture. Kenny took up more of this photo than Red did. Kenny and his slim shoulders were hogging the frame. His toned arm tightening up as he pulled back on Red's hips. His head hung low in concentration, focusing all of his attention on Red, even as his other hand held up his phone to take the photo. Were those his thighs in the shadows at the bottom of the photo? They looked sinewy, but Clyde couldn't tell for sure. He could see his hips, though—angled forward, his ass tightened in mid-thrust. He hated Kenny for this. He hated him for scoring a point before him and taunting him with it. Teasing him. He hated Kenny for how his balls were tight and...wait those were Clyde's balls tightening and... _oh God, I'm coming_... He spilled out, hot and wet, over his hand.

Clyde dropped his phone onto his bed. His hand was still holding his now softening shaft. He stared up at the ceiling, not really knowing what to think. His breathing began to slow, returning to a regular pace. He didn't want to acknowledge the fact that his orgasm had been excellent. One of the better ones that he'd had in months, actually. He didn't want to acknowledge this, knowing that he had been looking at Kenny McCormick at the time that he came. It had nothing to do with that douche. He had just been so aroused by Red's body that he became overwhelmed with pleasure. That was it. It had to be.

Clyde grabbed some tissues from his bedside table and wiped himself off before tucking himself back into his pants. He grabbed his headphones and headed downstairs to go for that run.

He decided to never think of this moment again.

* * *

Kenny was thankful that he hadn't had much to drink the night before. His shifts at City Wok over the weekend would have really sucked if he'd been hungover. Then again, Chinese food did make for decent hangover food. Mr. Kim would sometimes let Kenny take home leftover food at the end of the night. He couldn't rely on it to always feed his family, but it was a nice break from usual plain white rice, canned tuna, or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Kenny worked under the table for Mr. Kim, so he didn't have to pay taxes, which was nice, but he also had zero benefits. He had actually asked Mr. Kim about that once and he laughed in Kenny's face. Still, he was a decent boss—he was flexible with the schedule, so Kenny worked whenever he could—and Kenny was a hard worker. Sometimes he helped clean the store, but most of the time he was City Wok's number one guy for delivery orders. His job and his truck were entangled in a codependent relationship. He relied on his truck to make money, but most of the money went to keeping his truck running.

Still, he did occasionally receive a really nice tip from customers. They were usually his regulars, but his favorite ones were from older women who gave him twenty bucks just for being cute. It lined his pockets and his ego. That Sunday night he had received one such tip, so he was feeling good and decided to treat his sister.

"You seem in a really good mood this morning," Karen chirped.

Kenny glanced over at her while he snapped on his seatbelt. "Oh yeah? What makes you say that?"

"Well for one thing, you were singing pop songs while making breakfast."

"Was I?" Kenny feigned ignorance, his smile growing bigger.

"Yes, you dork!" she laughed. "You were! And I know when you're with your friends you like to be seen as mister hardcore rock drummer guy, but I know you secretly like pop music because whenever you're feeling some sort of strong emotion, be it happiness, anger, sadness, whatever, you start singing some pop song that reflects how you're feeling."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he grinned.

"Says the guy who was belting out _Baby One More Time_ into the Poptart box…"

"Oh _that_? That was totes the Dweezil and Ahmet Zappa version. So…still rock."

Kenny flashed Karen his gap-toothed smile and winked. He received a hard eye roll from her as she snapped her own seatbelt on and slouched down on the bench seat.

Kenny pressed his lips together. He knew it could be exhausting being his little sister. She often tried to get him to open up about his feelings, but he was stubborn and continued to hide them behind a wall of charming smiles, sly winks, and jokes. He reached into his worn backpack and pulled out a folded brown paper bag and placed it on her lap.

"What's this?" she asked.

"What's the matter? I can't give my little sister gifts anymore? Are you too old and cool for free stuff?"

"No, it's not that," she said, rolling her eyes again. "I just know brown paper bags are usually suspicious. I just wanna make sure you didn't buy me porn or anything."

Kenny couldn't help but giggle at the comment.

"You don't have to worry about me buying you porn until your eighteenth birthday. But be warned, when I do, it's gonna be _freaky_."

"Eww no!" Karen giggled in return, pushing Kenny away from her.

Kenny finally handed the bag to Karen, who reluctantly took it. She opened the crinkling paper and pulled out a pad of fancy looking stationary paper and a new pen. The pen had glitter embedded in it and Karen was mesmerized by the sparkles.

"This is beautiful, Kenny! Thank you!" She wrapped her arms around his thin waist and pulled him into a hug. "I'm gonna write so many notes to my friends with this!"

Kenny felt warm inside as he turned the ignition on and pulled out across the train tracks and onto actual paved road.

"So how did you like the game on Friday? I saw you losing your mind in the crowd."

Karen placed the stationary in her backpack and calmly folded her hands in her lap before exploding with excitement.

"It was awesome! Just everything about it! The crowd was so loud! And Billy the Bull was hilarious! I need to take a picture with him at the next game!"

Kenny snorted. He wasn't about to tell Karen that the school's mascot was Eric Cartman. He'd seen the look on many people's faces when they found out and he didn't want to see the look of disappointment on Karen's face.

"And then the cheerleaders were even greater than I'd imagined! I didn't even know that there was a guy cheerleader! Do you know what his name is?"

"Scott? Yeah he's pretty cool. Who'd have guessed he'd end up being as cool as he is, honestly."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, he was kind of a dorky kid. Me and the guys used to rip on him a lot. I'm not proud of it. But over one summer he hit puberty and suddenly got kinda jacked. So like I said...who would've guessed?"

"I like him. I also like Bebe a lot. She's like this wondrous blonde angel."

"You should draw a portrait of her like that. I could totally give it to her for you. I bet she'd love some fan art of herself."

"Really?" Karen beamed.

"Yeah, probably."

Karen continued to gush about anything and everything related to the game. She didn't seem quite as impressed by the marching band as Kenny had hoped, but he chalked it up to the fact that she was around him and his drumming every day, so it didn't feel novel anymore.

Finally, they pulled into the school parking lot. The two siblings exited the truck and Kenny locked up, even though he didn't have anything valuable in the cab and no one in their right mind would want to steal his truck anyway. Karen continued to talk excitedly about the football game as they approached the school doors.

"I was biting my nails near the end of the game. I didn't think they were going to win! That catch by Clyde was so intense! Poor Tricia and Craig practically had to hold me down so I didn't jump out of my seat."

Kenny's face soured at the mention of Clyde. He hadn't thought of him at all the entire weekend, and it had been a welcome break. He was fooling himself to think that it would continue once he got back to school, though.

"Yeah, it really was a good play."

They entered the building and Kenny instinctively continued to his locker. Karen followed him all the way there, too wrapped up in her thoughts. When they finally reached his locker, Clyde was waiting there for him. Kenny had to restrain himself around Karen. He knew she idolized Clyde and he didn't want to disappoint her with his real feelings.

"What do you want, Donovan?"

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Clyde looked at Karen and smiled. "Hey Karen."

Karen turned beet red. She opened up her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. When she realized that she had temporarily become mute due to nerves, she hid her face in Kenny's tattered t-shirt.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Kenny continued, protectively pulling Karen closer to him.

Clyde shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking increasingly uncomfortable. His eyes made quick glances between Karen and Kenny.

"Could we, uh… talk in private?" he asked.

Kenny sighed and looked down at his clinging sister. "Alright Karen, it's time for you to get going to your own locker."

Karen nodded quickly and finally managed to look Clyde in the eyes.

"See ya, Clyde!"

She ran off down the hallway, dodging other students, her arms up over her head in a bizarre attempt to hide herself.

"So. We're alone now."

Kenny folded his arms and moved in closer to Clyde.

"You got my text, Donovan?" Kenny asked.

Clyde felt eerily intimidated by the shorter man, even though he was eighty-three percent sure that he could kick Kenny's ass in a fight. Kenny wasn't exactly physically intimidating, but his bright blue eyes could sear right through your skin. Clyde was feeling his skin prickling with heat from the intensity of his stare. Clyde subtly puffed out his chest and cleared his throat to try to bring back his confidence.

"I suppose you'll have to specify which one, since you apparently couldn't stop texting me at the party," Clyde responded.

"Cut the shit, Donovan."

"You _do_ realize that you're a huge fucking creep for taking sexual pictures of a fellow classmate without their knowledge and _then_ sending them, unsolicited, to a different classmate? That's sexual harassment, McCormick."

"Those are some big words that your caveman brain is able to come up with. I'm impressed."

Clyde's eyes flickered to Kenny's mouth. The muscles in his jaw were clenching and flexing as he spoke. Clyde was fascinated with their movement, despite the fact that any bystander would have been able to see that it meant a storm was brewing inside of Kenny.

"You know, I should take my phone to PC Principal and show him those harassing texts. I bet Vice Principal Woman would _love_ them, too."

"You fucking sonuvabitch!"

Kenny's arm snapped out and he shoved his finger in Clyde's face. Clyde was taken by surprise, staggering back into the lockers with a loud _clang!_ Kenny pressed his body against Clyde's and whispered loudly, teeth clenched.

"Those photos were _fucking_ consensual! I asked Red first if I could take them and she said _yes_! So don't you _dare_ call me a sexual harasser! _Got it_?"

Clyde's eyes were wide and unblinking. He hadn't expected Kenny to explode like that, even though he was obviously antagonizing him. Once he regained his cool, his face shifted from shock to smug.

"Okay, got it. …But did you ask her if you could send them to me?"

Kenny's face softened. His eyes fell to the floor and he stepped away sheepishly.

"No. I didn't. I let my stupid pride and this dumbass bet of yours get the best of me. The second I came to my senses and realized it was an awful fucking idea, that's when I sent the other text."

He ran his hand over his face and sighed deeply.

"So please Donovan. Tell me you deleted those photos. Not for my sake. For Red. She doesn't deserve this."

Clyde nodded.

"Yeah. She's a cool chick."

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. He unlocked the screen, and then while looking Kenny in the eyes, held out the device to him.

"Here. You can check for your message. You'll see I deleted it."

Kenny eyed Clyde with suspicion. He hesitated for a moment before taking the phone from Clyde's hand. Kenny opened the texting app and scrolled down, finding nothing but stupid group texts from Clyde's football buddies, texts to Craig and Bebe, and texts from Mr Donovan.

"You can check my photos, too, if you want. They're not in there," said Clyde.

Kenny went into Clyde's photos and found nothing related to Friday night. He did, however, find something arguably worse.

"Oh, come on!" Kenny cried out, tossing the phone back at Clyde and looking away. "Dude!"

"What?" Clyde asked before looking at the screen. "Oh those." Clyde raised an eyebrow at Kenny. "You mean you don't take selfies in your underwear?"

"I can't with you right now. I need you to go. I'm going to be late for first period."

Clyde shoved his phone back in his pocket and lumbered away to his first class. When he turned the corner, he glanced back at Kenny, still getting his things from his locker. What Kenny didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Kenny didn't need to know that the photos of him and Red were on Clyde's computer in the folder labeled "Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut".

Spanish was Clyde's first period class. It sucked. He struggled with it once he passed the basic levels, but he knew it was a college requirement. If only Park County High offered German classes. He'd ace the shit out of that. Ah well. Craig was in the same Spanish class, so that was a plus. Most of the reason that Clyde was still even afloat in the class was Craig's tutorship. Clyde slumped down into his desk next to his best friend and audibly sighed.

"Don't tell me you're still hungover from Friday night," Craig said while he doodled in the margins of his notebook. "You're gonna fuck up your liver drinking like that."

"Nah dude. I've been fine since Saturday afternoon. I just had a weird moment with McCormick."

"Weird how?" Craig looked up from his doodles and tapped his pencil against his chin.

Clyde was at an impasse. He wasn't dumb enough to tell Craig about the photos Kenny sent him. They weren't any of Craig's business, even if he was Kenny's second. However, he had to come up with something to say since he had bothered to open up this can of worms in the first place.

"He overheard me telling a chick about my awesome underwear selfies and came up to me just to tell me I was a fool for taking them."

Clyde stared at Craig's face, hoping he'd buy the lame lie. Craig stared blankly back for a few seconds before returning to his notebook.

"You _are_ a fool. Sounds like an accurate assessment to me."

"Dammit, Craig! You're supposed to have my back!"

"Only when that back has a shirt on it. Seriously, Clyde. Why would you take selfies in your underwear?"

"Cause how else am I going to get sweet pics of me flexing?"

"Why am I your friend again?" Craig asked sarcastically.

"Because your life would be a hell of a lot more boring without me," said Clyde.

"If only…" Craig sighed, looking up, out into the distance.

"Hey!" Clyde pouted. "You're an asshole, dude. But I love you. Are we on for lunch this afternoon?"

Craig looked at his best friend out of the corner of his eye and smiled. He wasn't one for excitement, but he wouldn't have anyone else for a friend.

"Definitely. And love you, too, bro."

* * *

"So not too much happened at Stan's party after you left. Other than me and the squad continuing to tear it up on the dance floor."

Bebe did some dance moves as she and Clyde strolled down the hallway.

"That's good, I guess. I would be pissed if something epic had gone down and I wasn't there to see it. I never want to be that guy."

"I'd make sure to film it on my phone and Snapchat it to you. You'd still be that guy, but you'd at least be able to see it second hand."

"You're a good friend, Bebe," Clyde said sarcastically.

She lightly punched him in the arm as the stopped in front of Clyde's locker. Clyde took off his backpack and dug out a small scrap of paper from the outer pocket. It had three numbers on it. After the debacle on the first day of school, Clyde had begged Craig to write out his locker combination for him. Craig had made fun of him for a good fifteen minutes before he agreed.

Once the combination was entered and Clyde heard the loud click that the lever made when it was lifted, he opened the locker door and out fell a small folded up piece of pink paper.

"What the hell?"

Clyde bent down to pick up the small square. When he held it up in front of him, he caught a faint smell of roses on the paper.

"Oh shit. I think this might be a love note," he said, grinning.

"Why do you say that?" asked Bebe.

"Take a whiff," Clyde said as he held the paper in front of Bebe.

She inhaled deeply while nodding her head.

"That's definitely Morning Rose Dew from the Girly Girl collection. I think you may be right. Open it! What does it say!"

Clyde fumbled with the neatly folded paper, trying not to leave wrinkles. The inside of the paper was full of cute drawings of flowers, hearts, and what appeared to be footballs with angel wings. In the center of the paper was a simple poem written with a lovely flourish.

"Roses are red/

Violets are blue/

That winning catch was super cool/

And so are you," Clyde and Bebe both read in unison.

"Signed by 'Your Secret Admirer'. Well that's not very original, but the note is very cute. I can't believe that it's only the second week of school and you're already getting notes from secret crushes."

"What can I say? I have hundreds of adoring fans. There's a reason I say that I'm a big deal."

Bebe rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips.

"More like a big dork. Now hurry up or we're going to be late for practice."

Clyde grabbed his gear bag from his locker and closed it. He carefully folded the note up again and opened his backpack. He took one last smell of the note before tossing it inside.

"Secret admirer, huh? I wonder who it could be."


	9. Chapter Eight

"Ready? Okay!"

"Park County Bulls! Going strong! We're gonna win, and it won't take long!"

"More energy, Annie! Keep those arms straight, Nichole!" Coach Lahey strolled back and forth as the cheer team ran through their basic cheers after warming up.

"Park County Bulls! Doing it right! Rack up the score! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Lisa and Scott worked together to throw Red in the air with a basket toss. She performed a toe touch while in the air and came back down into Lisa, Scott, Annie, and Nichole's arms.

"Great extension, Red! Scott and Lisa, great height on that toss!"

Lisa and Scott gave each other a high five while the rest of the squad returned to their starting formation.

"Go! Go! Go! _Go!"_ Coach McKay yelled from behind them.

The cheerleaders all turned around to see what sort of commotion was going on. They saw Clyde sprinting down the field to the end zone, football in tow.

"Woah! Clyde is really killing it today!" said Nichole.

"Yeah, the dummy is in a really good mood today, so that's probably why he's giving it his all, even though it's only Monday," Bebe explained.

"What the hell happened that put him in such a good mood?" asked Annie.

"He found a love note from a mystery person in his locker. He thinks it's from an adoring fan," Bebe answered, shaking her head and smiling.

"Ooh! A secret admirer! How scandalous!" Red joked.

"Come on, you guys. Let's not allow the football team to upstage us. Let's practice even harder!" said Scott.

He raised his fist in the air, trying to rally the rest of the squad. They responded with a hearty battlecry.

Meanwhile, Clyde rolled around in the end zone, soaking in the moment. Even though it was just a weekday practice, to him it felt like it was a playoff game and everything was on the line. He finally picked himself back off the ground and leisurely ran back to the fifty yard line, tossing the ball to the center.

Play after play, Clyde was running faster, hitting harder with his tackles, and hadn't missed a catch all afternoon. When they finally had a water break, Token and Stan were eager to know what had gotten into him.

"Clyde! Dude! What's going on out there today? You're a fucking beast!" Stan exclaimed.

Token pulled off Clyde's helmet and tossed it to Stan. He then mussed up Clyde's warm brown locks before putting him in a friendly headlock.

"Yeah man! What gives?" he asked.

Clyde laughed and wriggled out of his friend's notably weak headlock. He took a cup full of the water that Cartman was handing out and plopped down on the bench.

"I can't tell you guys. It's a secret," he grinned.

"Really? That's fucking lame, dude! Don't pussy out on us like that!" Stan said, rolling his eyes.

"This isn't me pussying out, Stan," Clyde said, running his fingers through his hair.

His hair was always messy by the end of the day—a helmet plus a copious amount of sweat did not lend itself to good style—but he refused to stop trying to make his hair look somewhat presentable. He never knew when a hottie might come by, and he wanted to make sure he looked his best, just in case.

"If I were to tell everyone my exciting new training secret, then it wouldn't be exciting, new, or a secret anymore. Everyone would be able to be as awesome as me, which would mean that I wasn't awesome anymore. I'd just be average."

Stan and Token gave each other a look.

"Fine, dude. Whatever works for you, works for the team," said Token.

The three finished their waters, laughing at a joke Token had heard from Jimmy earlier that day.

Across the field, Kenny was watching them. He had initially looked over because there had been so much commotion. He fumed at how happy Clyde looked. He had made Kenny so pissed off earlier that day that he felt it was unfair that Clyde was allowed to be _that_ happy. This was a fact that he had told Tweek several times already. Tweek was starting to grow weary of it.

"I'm not sure why you bother letting him get to you. Normally it's kinda funny, but right now you're being annoying as shit. Just avoid him, dude. I mean, yeah we have to see him at football games and across the field during rehearsal, but other than that… Like you don't even have any fucking classes with him, so why were you even hanging out in the first place?"

"We were discussing an altercation that happened at the party on Friday. It was important," Kenny responded.

Kenny's jaw clenched. He was actively avoiding eye contact with Tweek. Tweek picked up on this immediately, but didn't mention it. He didn't want to get involved with whatever high school drama was already making Kenny boring and lame.

" _Hey, drumline_!" Wendy called out from her podium.

"Hey, drum major!" Kenny called back sarcastically.

"Focus, please!"

She sighed, frustrated that she was losing the people's attention so early in the week. She took a beat and continued the pep talk she had been in the middle of.

"I know we did a great job on Friday, but we need to work hard to improve if we want to win the state championship again. Remember! 3 B D!"

She cupped her hand around her ear and leaned forward, smiling when the band called back.

"Bitches better bow down!"

"So let's do this!" Wendy cheered.

Both rehearsals ended as the sun began to lower in the sky. Kyle ran up to Wendy, trumpet case in hand, while she was folding up the podium.

"Hey Wendy!" he said with a smile.

"Hey Kyle," she smiled back.

She leaned the podium onto its wheels and began to walk toward the shed. Kyle followed after her.

"The new Marvel movie comes out this Friday. I was wondering if you wanted to go see it with me Saturday night?" he asked. "It looks really good!"

Wendy glanced at him as she continued walking. "Saturday, huh?" Her smile morphed into a frown. "I can't Saturday. The Testaburger clan is having a huge family reunion thing in Boulder. Great-grandma's ninetieth birthday and all."

"Oh...I understand." Kyle felt dejected, but tried his best to hide it.

"But I'll be back on Sunday. We could go see it that afternoon?" Wendy suggested.

"Yeah, that'd be great!"

Wendy stored the podium in its usual spot and locked up the shed once she was certain that everything was put back inside of it. She stepped outside and looked over at the locker room entrance.

Across the field, Stan said goodbye to his teammates. He gave Clyde and Token a smack on the ass, as was the bizarre homoerotic football jock tradition. He walked toward the locker room doors, swinging his helmet back and forth. He had a bit of a swagger in his step, feeling really good about the team's work that day.

Wendy smiled when she caught sight of him. She turned to Kyle and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, it's a date then. Text me the times, okay?" She started to walk away, quickly breaking into a run toward Stan. She looked back behind her, calling out, "I'll see you tomorrow, Kyle!"

Stan noticed something moving out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head right as Wendy ran up to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Hey babe!" he chuckled, having not expected such a greeting. "Give me a few minutes to go shower. I'm all sweaty and smelly and shit."

Wendy buried her face into his chest and breathed in his scent. "I know. I like it. With everything I have to do for the band, I don't usually get to see you like this." She nuzzled her nose against his jersey.

"Well damn, if you're gonna get like _this_ , I'll never fucking shower again," he said.

Wendy pulled away, raising her eyebrow at him. "Okay, let's not get hyperbolic about it."

"Nice try, babe. Clyde told me that's not a real word."

"Oh my god, you're so dumb. You need to stop listening to Clyde," she laughed. "I just...I know it makes me come off as crude and uncultured, but...even strong women have…" She cleared her throat. "...urges...you know?"

Stan's ears perked up. "Urges, huh? Would you like to do something about these cavewoman urges of yours?" he grinned.

Wendy bit her lower lip. "Meet me in my car in ten minutes." She stood on her toes to kiss Stan.

Back on the band field, Kenny came up to Kyle from behind.

"Whatcha looking at?" he asked. He followed Kyle's gaze to Stan and Wendy making out. "Yeah. Makes me sick to my stomach, too. It's best if you just look away, buddy."

Kenny patted Kyle on the back and turned away, heading for the stands to get Karen so they could go home. Kyle frowned, but followed Kenny's advice anyway.

* * *

 _I like that you are tough_

 _I think your arms are super buff_

 _I love to see the way you strut_

 _Cuz I like to stare at your butt_

Clyde grinned at the new note. It made him stupidly happy that it had not been a one-time thing. He had been in such a good mood yesterday, and this new love poem kept the positive vibes going. He passed the note to Bebe in English class. When she read it, she snorted out loud in the middle of someone reading a particularly depressing passage from _King Lear_. She shrugged when the teacher gave her a dirty look.

Out on the football field, Clyde continued his domination. He started to try out different end zone dances and poses, insisting that it was "hella important" he get it right before Friday when Coach McKay asked him what he was doing.

Token took Stan aside while they were resetting a play. They agreed that something had to be going on with Clyde, and that they should confront him again during the next water break.

"Okay, Clyde. Spill it," Token said.

Stan grabbed Clyde by the shoulders, opting for a less subtle approach. "Dude! You're not…" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "...on steroids, are you?"

"What?!" Clyde yelled. He pushed Stan away from him. "You guys are being ridiculous!"

"Maybe so," said Token, "but you were too vague yesterday when we asked you what your training secret was. Can you blame us for wondering if you started taking performance enhancing drugs? I mean, it's senior year and college scouts are starting to make their rounds. I could see why someone might feel pressured to do it."

"Well, I'm not! Christ!" Clyde pouted.

"So then...what's the secret?" Stan asked.

"I have a secret admirer."

Token and Stan stared blankly at Clyde. "That's it?" they said in unison.

"Hell yeah," Clyde replied. "I've been working extra hard for her cause she'll obviously be watching me at the game on Friday. Who knows, if I get the winning touchdown again, maybe she'll reveal herself and we'll hook-up afterward."

"So your secret to better performance is the possibility of getting laid?" asked Token.

"It _is_ a pretty powerful force," Stan laughed. "But you and I both have girlfriends, so we get it on the regular. But Donovan here is a free agent, so…yeah, I buy it. Go get it, my dude!"

Stan raised his hand in the air to give Clyde a high-five.

"Sometimes I question why we're friends," Token said, shaking his head.

"Hey Stan!"

They turned to see Kyle running up to them. Clyde and Token moved aside to get refills on their water.

"Hey Kyle. What's up? I haven't really seen you since school started," asked Stan.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I've just been so busy with band and all of my AP classes. Anyway, I've been meaning to tell you this since I saw the game last Friday, but dude, you look _amazing!_ That extra time you spent working out this summer really paid off!"

"Yeah, I did pretty good. I cut weight, too, which helped," Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Pretty good? Dude!" Kyle reached out his hand and touched Stan's chest. "This is more than pretty good!"

Stan looked at Kyle, then down at the hand pressed against him. His cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. He chuckled and playfully slapped Kyle on the back.

"Dude, that's totally gay! But thanks!"

"Oh, I also came over to see if you wanted to go see the new Marvel movie with me on Saturday?" asked Kyle. "We haven't hung out in a while, so I figured we should remedy that."

"Yeah! That sounds great! I miss you, dude."

"I miss you, too. Well, I should probably get back now. Break's about over," said Kyle.

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and swiped it open. When he burst out laughing, Stan asked him who it was from.

"Oh, it's just Wendy. An inside joke of ours. Anyway, gotta run! It's great to see you, Stan!"

Kyle ran back to the band field, leaving Stan staring at his back. Coach McKay blew the whistle to resume practice, telling Stan it was time to put his feelings aside and focus on football.

* * *

 _The sound of your voice is oh so sweet_

 _I can't wait for the day when we can meet_

 _I want to be held in your arms so strong_

 _I pray that this wish won't take too long_

* * *

Karen let out a small squeak when Craig suddenly sat down next to her in the stands.

"Don't scare me like that, senpai! I didn't even hear you coming!" she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her heart.

Craig gave her a blank stare. "Please don't call me senpai."

Karen pouted. "I'll get you to like it eventually."

"Anyway, sorry for startling you. I didn't intentionally try to sneak up on you. I just walk quietly, I guess. I've been compared to a cat before."

Karen laughed and her face brightened up again. "You're _totally_ a cat!"

"So what are you doing up here?" Craig asked. "Are you _that_ into the football team that you feel the need to watch every practice?"

"I stay after school every day, not just when the art club meets. I sit out here in the fresh air and practice drawing, then Kenny takes me home after marching band is done rehearsing. I'd take the bus home earlier, but I've been told that taking the bus is social suicide, and I really don't want to be labeled as uncool before my high school debut has barely even begun!"

"'High school debut'…'senpai'…dammit, Karen, you've been watching way too much fucking anime," Craig said, shaking his head.

"I watch it with Kenny on the weekends. He said you recommended a bunch of the shows we've watched."

Craig cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. "You smell good today."

Karen rolled her eyes, but let the awkward transition go.

"Thanks. It's my new favorite body spray. It's called Morning Rose Dew. It's kind of expensive, but a little goes a long way."

"It really is nice. You're becoming quite the young woman. You know, when you're not acting like a child in a ball pit."

Karen's eyes widened. "When I'm an adult, I'm going to have a room in my house that's just a giant ball pit."

Craig opened his mouth for a sarcastic remark, but quickly closed it. "Yeah, that sounds pretty fucking awesome."

The two continued to talk about art, and Craig gave Karen some tips for improvement. Before they knew it, marching band practice was over and Kenny was calling out to Karen from the bottom of the bleachers.

"Oh! I didn't realize how late it was!" Karen exclaimed. "Thanks for spending time with me, sen-, uh, sorry Craig."

"Sure thing," said Craig, cracking a rare smile. He might not be a fan of her calling him senpai, but Karen was a good kid nonetheless.

Craig waved down at Kenny. Kenny waved back before Karen leapt into his arms for a hug. Craig watched as several members of the band passed in front of the stands. When he noticed Tweek slow down and stop to chat with Kenny, he felt a warm pleasant feeling spread through his stomach. It was fucking embarrassing. He stared at him, unable to tear his eyes away.

Unfortunately, his eyes lingered a few seconds too long. Tweek eventually looked up into the stands and directly at Craig. Craig snapped his gaze away, deciding that the football players still on the field were far more interesting than a kinda sorta cute punk drummer.

* * *

 _I had a dirty dream about you last night._

Clyde flipped the paper over to the back side, then again to the front.

"That's it? No poem?" he questioned. "That's kinda weird."

"It's certainly straight to the point," said Bebe. "I kinda miss the cutesy feeling of those little poems. That being said, it looks like you won't have to try to score. She's already there. She's just waiting for you to find her, or trying to get up the courage to confront you directly. But once she does, you're in."

"You think? I don't know…I'm starting to feel like this is a prank. Like someone is trying to be a dick and throw me off my game. Build me up and then tear me down. Do you think a player from Pueblo would sneak into the school to slip these into my locker?"

"Really, Clyde? How would they know which one was your locker? That sounds like it would be a lot of work to research just for a prank."

"I guess," he sighed.

Bebe had a point, but something about the notes just didn't feel right anymore. Sure, they were flattering at first, but this was the fourth one in four days, and this one was much more serious in tone. Clyde just couldn't shake the feeling that someone was fucking with him.

That feeling ended up affecting him at practice. All of the improvement he made during the week seemed to disappear. No. It was more than that. Clyde seemed to have gotten worse. He was sloppy with his catches. He seemed sluggish when he ran. It was obvious to everyone on the team that he was distracted by something.

During a water break, Stan and Token confronted him yet again.

"Dude! What the fuck is up with you this week? You've been kicking ass until now, but today…you're killing us out there!"

Stan put his hands on his hips as he paced back and forth.

"It's…" Clyde let out a groan. He knew it was stupid. He knew he shouldn't be so in his head about these damn notes. "Fuck, you're going to think I'm an idiot."

"We already think you're an idiot. I don't think this will change much," Token said, rubbing his temples.

"I got another note from the admirer, and now I think it's someone trying to prank me," Clyde mumbled. He felt embarrassed just saying the words aloud.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Stan pushed on Clyde's shoulder like he thought it might shake him out of this funk. "You're playing like shit because of _that?"_

Clyde buried his head in his hands and yelled. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay. I got this."

"You'd better. Pueblo demolished their opponent last week, so we can't let down our guard."

Cartman came over and handed them each a large plastic cup of ice water.

"Here," he said.

The three of them chugged down their cups, and then Stan asked for a second. Cartman eyed him suspiciously, but decided he'd rather have his players well hydrated. Stan thanked Cartman for the cup before proceeding to dump the entire thing over Clyde's head.

"Dude! What the fuck!" Clyde exclaimed.

Stan stepped up close to him and patted his full cheeks with his hands. "That's to make sure you're awake. Now come on."

Stan picked his and Clyde's helmets off the ground and thrust Clyde's into his chest. Clyde shoved it back onto his head, gritting his teeth while he secured the strap. The team ran back onto the field and resumed the starting position.

Clyde haphazardly looked over at the marching band as he ran toward his spot. The drumline was standing in the front, dancing around like he had seen at the previous game. His eyes focused on Kenny. Clyde would never admit to it out loud, but Kenny had a natural ability to perform that made him easily stand out from the other players. He crouched down into his starting position. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and focus on practice. Geez, first the damn prank note, now his rival. What else could cloud his mind?

Wait a second.

Kenny. Kenny was probably the one who had been leaving the notes in his locker. It made total sense! They had that argument after lunch on Monday. Kenny must have been so pissed off by the way Clyde totally destroyed him that he tried to throw him off of his game with fake flirty notes! What other explanation could there be?

Stan called out the play, but Clyde wasn't paying attention. His teammates began to move around him, but he stood still, his mind bristling with thoughts of Kenny. He didn't hear his name being called repeatedly. He did, however, feel the air forced out of his lungs as his body was tackled to the ground.

Coach McKay blew the whistle to halt the play. He ran up to Clyde while the teammate who tackled him helped him back up.

"Donovan! What the hell happened?" he asked.

He lifted his shades up on top of his head so that he could look Clyde in the eyes. Clyde knew that he only did this when he was truly upset.

"I don't know what happened, Coach. I just sorta...froze. I had a lot on my mind," said Clyde. He didn't have any better excuse. What would people think if he had said he had been distracted because he was thinking about another guy?

Coach McKay pulled his shades off of his head and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "I gotta put you on the bench for the rest of practice, Donovan. I hate to do it, but if your head isn't going to be on the field, it's just not safe. I can't have one of the other guys giving you a damn concussion because you aren't paying attention. Just...make sure you get focused by tomorrow night. We're all counting on you."

"I understand, Coach," Clyde said. He smiled sadly and removed his helmet as he walked off of the field.

Clyde finished the rest of practice on the bench, brooding, and staring over at the marching band. The longer he thought about Kenny's potential connection to the notes, the more upset he got, and the more he believed it. He clenched the muscles in his jaw and rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn't let this continue. He had to do something about it now.

The second that Coach McKay called for the end of practice, Clyde jumped up and did a hard walk across the field. The marching band had finished about five minutes prior, and most of the students were heading toward their cars, having already put their instruments away. The drumline, however, was over near the equipment shed and were in the middle of removing the harnesses from their drums.

"HEY!" Clyde yelled when he was within earshot of Kenny. "McCORMICK!"

Kenny looked up from his spot kneeling on the ground. Clyde looked ticked off. Kenny glanced over at Tweek, who gave him a confused look. Kenny leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, watching Clyde as he closed in on him.

"What the fuck is your deal, McCormick?!" Clyde yelled.

Kenny cocked his head to the side. He chuckled to himself and stood up to be closer to Clyde's eye level.

"My deal? I literally have no idea what you're talking about." Kenny put his hands on his hips and pushed out his chest a bit, in the hopes that it struck a more intimidating pose.

"You fucking know _exactly_ what I'm talking about! You're playing mind tricks on me! Trying to throw me off my game before tomorrow so that I fuck up!"

Kenny furrowed his brow. "What? Why would I want to do that?"

"Cause you're still upset from Monday!"

"Monday? Huh? You mean because I yelled at you? Jesus Christ, Donovan! I'm not still upset about that!" Kenny started to laugh. "I don't hold a grudge like you!"

Kenny's laughter made Clyde see red even more. He took a step forward and pushed Kenny in the chest. Not hard enough to actually hurt him or make him fall down, but enough to provoke his ire.

Kenny lowered his head, looking up at Clyde with dark eyes. "Okay. So you wanna fight then, Donovan? You really want to start this right now?"

Tweek stood up and stood next to Kenny. He cracked the knuckles of his right hand and flexed the fingers open and close into a fist.

"Walk on home, boy," Tweek threatened, "before I punch you in the fucking mouth."

Clyde rolled both of his shoulders. He stretched his neck to either side. "Go right ahead. I can take both of you." His face contorted into a snarl.

Before anyone could take the first swing, Cartman rushed over, flanked by Stan and Token. Stan and Token both grabbed at Clyde's arms to hold him back. Cartman walked up directly to Tweek and Kenny, tut-tutting and wagging his finger at them.

"Hey hey hey! There will be none of that! My stars are valuable property, and I can not have any of them getting any broken teeth or black eyes! I need them to look their best in case there are any sponsorship deals on the way!"

"There are no sponsorship deals, Cartman. You're being an idiot," Kenny said, rolling his eyes.

"You don't know that!" Cartman exclaimed. "Now keep your hands away from my player! I know you want a piece of him, Kenny, of course everyone does in this school, but hands off!"

Cartman turned on his heel and followed after Stan and Token, who had begun to lead Clyde back to the locker rooms. Kenny watched as he doted upon Clyde, who turned his head to stare back at Kenny, snarl still intact.

"Well, that was a fucking thing," Tweek chuckled.

"It's never a dull day around here, huh?" Kenny shook his head.

He knelt back down on the ground to continue putting his snare away. After a moment, he looked up at Tweek again.

"Really dude? Threat by Pantera lyric?"

Tweek grinned. "It's been stuck in my head all day, man. Sue me."

* * *

 _Meet me outside after school_

 _I'll be at the bench out front by the flagpole_

Clyde licked his lips. After yesterday's note and the subsequent mindfuck he experienced, he wasn't quite sure how he should proceed. On one hand, if it _was_ a hot chick who wanted to get in a quickie before the game, he'd simultaneously let off some steam _and_ get his first point. On the other hand, if it was someone playing a prank, Kenny or otherwise, he'd know for certain and be able to put the person in a headlock until the apologized for being a dick. Hmm. Now that he thought about it, there weren't any downsides to meeting the author of these notes.

At lunch, Clyde decided to show the note to Craig. He wanted a second opinion, and Craig was objectively smarter than him, so he figured he was the best option.

Craig looked at the lightly crumpled pink paper. "Well, it's cute stationary, that's for certain."

"Dammit Craig, stop being so gay! I didn't ask for your artistic opinion on the fucking paper itself. Like, what do you think I should do? Should I be late to practice and actually meet up with this person?"

Craig frowned at Clyde for the gay comment. He sighed and looked his friend square in the eyes.

"I say go for it. What's the worst that could happen? If it's someone you're not interested in, you simply turn them down, and then they spend the rest of the year plotting their vengeance on you, killing you one day before graduation."

"WHAT!?" Clyde cried.

"Damn dude, calm down. I'm kidding!" Craig patted him on the shoulder. "Seriously though. I think it's better to just meet with the person. I mean, shit, after what Kenny told me about yesterday...I think you need some resolution to this whole charade."

Clyde bristled at Kenny's name. "He told you about that?" He grunted in disapproval when Craig nodded.

Clyde looked back down at the piece of paper in Craig's hand. "Does the handwriting look familiar to you at all? I know it's a long shot, but maybe it's someone we know?"

Craig brought the paper close to his face, like by looking at it up close, he'd suddenly recognize the handwriting.

"Nope. I can't tell." He wrinkled his nose and put the paper up against it, inhaling deeply. "It smells pretty nice, though. The scent is familiar, but I can't place it. I probably smelled it walking through the halls recently."

Clyde took the note back, folding it. He took a sniff before putting it back into his backpack. "It does smell nice. Alright, I'm gonna do it!"

Later that afternoon, after the final bell had rung, Craig and Bebe saluted Clyde as he left his locker to head outside. They gave each other a knowing look, expecting that they were going to hear all about it after the game that night.

"You wanna walk with me to my locker?" asked Bebe.

"Yeah, sure. It's not like I have anywhere important to be. I'm probably just gonna sit in the stands watching the band practice until the game," Craig replied.

"The band, huh? Since when have you been so interested in the marching band?" Bebe raised her eyebrow and smirked.

Craig felt warmth in his cheeks. "Oh, you know I've always been a huge supporter of the arts, Bebe." He pointed at himself. "Art nerd, right here."

"Uh-huh…it's not cause you're _crushing_ on anyone in the band, is it?"

Craig tried his best to look confused. "Who would I have a crush on?" he asked weakly.

"Oh, nobody in particular, I guess." She decided to drop the subject when they reached her locker.

She spun the combination in and lifted up on the handle. When the door swung open, the flowery scent of her locker wafted out into the hallway.

"Your locker smells really good." Craig narrowed his eyes. "Wait. That smells familiar. I think Clyde's secret admirer uses the same scent." He cocked his head to the side. "You didn't prank Clyde with those notes, did you?"

"Hey! What kind of friend do you think I am!" Bebe pouted. "It's called Morning Rose Dew. It's pretty popular right now."

Craig's eyes widened. "Say that name one more time."

"Morning Rose Dew. Why, what's the problem?"

"Uh, I gotta go," Craig said quickly as he started to run down the hallway.

Craig ran as fast as he could, pushing through the throngs of students blocking his path forward. He may had elbowed some people here and there, but that was their own damn fault for not getting out of his way. He quickly turned the corner to the hallway that led to the band room. He hoped that Kenny was there because he was pretty sure he'd want to know about this.

When he arrived, he swung the door open and stood in the doorway, winded.

"Kenny!"

"Craig?" Kenny asked. He was seated on the second stool for the drum kit. Tweek sat on the other, sticks in hand. "What's the matter? Why are you so out of breath?"

"It's Karen!"


	10. Chapter Nine

"Kenny! It's Karen!"

Kenny narrowed his eyes and stood up from the stool. "What about her? Craig, what's going on?"

"She's Clyde's secret admirer! She's the one who's been sending him flirty little notes all week!"

Kenny rolled his eyes. "That's it? I may hate the guy with the heat of a thousand suns, but I'm not about to tell my little sister who she can and can't have crushes on. I don't want to be that controlling asshole brother."

"All week Clyde has been talking about hooking up with his admirer, and today's note said to meet outside after school. Normally I would trust Clyde not to do anything _too_ stupid, but with this whole dumbass competition and the fact that she's _your_ sister—fuck, I can't believe I'm going to say this—I'm worried that he might take advantage of the situation."

"I can't stop her from liking who she likes, but I sure as hell can stop some dickbag from preying on her interest. I'm going to break his _fucking_ jaw if he lays a hand on her. Where the fuck is he?"

"In the front of the school. The bench near the flagpole, I think it said."

"Thanks, Craig." Kenny gently placed a hand on Craig's shoulder before sprinting off down the hallway.

Craig watched him disappear down the hallway, returning to face forward once he was out of sight. He noticed Tweek looking at him in the doorway, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Competition?" Tweek asked.

Craig slowly backed out of the doorway, his hands desperately grabbing at the strings of his hat. He turned tail and ran away after Kenny, leaving Tweek with an unanswered question.

* * *

Clyde took a deep breath before he pushed through the school's main entrance. He tried to keep his smile to a minimum, wanting to remain cool, calm, and collected. Inside, he was feeling a flutter of butterflies in his stomach at the prospect of discovering the identity of his mystery girl.

As the bench came into view, he saw a girl with light brown hair pulled back into two tiny pigtails. She appeared to be wearing a floral print sundress, probably because she was trying to look her best to confess to her crush in person. It was only when Clyde got close enough to the bench for the girl to notice him that he realized it was Karen McCormick. The butterflies flew away, leaving Clyde with a heavy, oddly hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

She stood up and waved at Clyde as he approached. He could see the bright pink in her cheeks. It was honestly quite endearing.

"Hey, what's up?" he said casually.

He wasn't quite sure how to proceed with this. He had been expecting a fellow senior, perhaps a junior. Hell, maybe even a teacher who just really sucked at poetry. He definitely wasn't expecting a freshman, though. Especially one who was the sister of his arch nemesis.

"Hiya, Clyde! Thank you for coming."

She sat back down and patted the spot next to her, inviting him to take a seat. He accepted her invitation and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible, given how uncomfortable this conversation was going to be.

"I wasn't sure how you were going to feel about my notes," she said.

Karen was looking down at her lap, unable to look at Clyde once he was actually sitting next to her. Clyde thought it was adorable how innocent she seemed. It made him realize that that was probably why the previous day's note had felt so bare. All it had said was _I had a dirty dream about you last night_. Clyde had thought it was someone messing with him—Kenny, to be exact—but really it was just a girl who was probably feeling embarrassed about having her first sexy dream.

"They made me really happy. It feels good to know someone has interest in you. So...thank you for writing them."

Clyde took his time choosing his words. He had come outside expecting to put the moves on a potential partner, but instead, he was about to turn someone down for the first time. He pursed his lips together in a tight smile.

"I was watching you at practice all week. You were _so_ cool. Even cooler than at last week's game."

Clyde looked over at Karen, who was looking back at him longingly. Affectionately. No one had really looked at him like that since he and Bebe had dated. He honestly missed it. He felt an ache in his chest, knowing he was going to have to break her heart today.

"You did, huh? Well, did you know that I was working so hard for you?"

Karen's eyes became saucers. She grabbed at the fabric around her knees, bunching it up in her fists.

"Really?"

"Really! The notes made me so happy that I wanted to make sure that I was at my best for the person who made me feel so good. I figured you'd be at the game tonight and I wanted to win for you."

Karen smiled and then abruptly threw her arms around Clyde, hugging him tight.

"That makes me really happy!" She nuzzled her cheek against his arm. "Mm, your arms are so _strong_ , Clyde."

He gently patted her on the head. He didn't want to lead her on, but he also didn't want to kill her confidence. He was honestly surprised at just how much confidence she had. He felt that not enough people took the chance on expressing their feelings to others, and he didn't want to see that stripped away from her, especially while she was still young.

She looked up at him with her warm doe eyes and took a deep breath.

"I like you, Clyde. I really, _really_ like you...and I was wondering if you would go out with me? Maybe after the game we could get some ice cream?"

"That sounds like a great first date, and I appreciate how much courage it takes to admit your feelings to someone, Karen, but…"

He took a deep breath as he watched her face crumple, immediately knowing where he was going with this.

"...but I can't give those feelings back to you. It's not that you aren't a lovely, sweet, and talented young woman. You are. Craig had told me about how much promise you have as an artist. And you look beautiful in your dress."

Karen pulled away from Clyde's arm and smoothed her dress with her hands. "Thank you," she said, her voice much smaller than before. "Kenny bought it for me."

Clyde felt the tension in his jaw when Kenny was mentioned, but he set his grudge aside. "You have a great brother."

"I know I do." Karen stared down at her feet. Her face was tense, like her emotional state was halfway between anger and sadness. She slowly exhaled. "So…if I'm so great, then why don't you like me?"

Clyde sighed and slouched down on the bench. That was always the big question when it came to rejection, wasn't it? _Why not me?_ Clyde felt conflicted, as there were a few reasons why he and Karen McCormick would never work. He was silent for a moment before he decided on the one that would close the door on her permanently. He didn't want to give her a sense that maybe something could happen in the future. He didn't want to leave her on the hook like that. She deserved better.

"To be honest?" he began. "Since you're Kenny's little sister—"

"That doesn't matter!" Karen interrupted. "It's not any of Kenny's business who I date!"

A small smile formed on Clyde's face.

"Hearing you say that makes me really happy, but no, that's not quite where I was going. What I was saying was that since you're Kenny's little sister, and I've known him since third grade, I've known _you_ since you were five. Because of that, I don't think I could ever see you as someone I could date. Does that make sense?"

Karen looked down at her feet. The pink strappy sandals she had bought from the thrift store were a bit faded and worn, but still made her feel pretty. She tried to focus on the sandals, as right now she was feeling every intrusive thought that was coming into her head.

"Yeah. I guess that makes sense," she said quietly. She slouched down on the bench. "Rejection sucks ass."

Clyde snorted. "Tell me about it. I've been rejected more times than I can ever remember."

"Really? Even you?" she asked.

"Hell yeah. All the time. I mean, when you put yourself out there a lot, you're going to have a lot of nos. _But_ you're going to get a lot of people who say yes, too. That's why I don't want you to feel defeated over this. I know the first bunch of times I got turned down by someone I really liked, I felt like I should just give up and never confess my feelings. I was scared. But I kept trying, and eventually it became easier to do, and even though the pain of being rejected is still there, it doesn't sting quite as much."

Karen pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them.

"I know it sounds like bullshit coming from me right now," Clyde continued, "but you're going to find someone someday who will love you back with all their heart. It might not be soon. It might take decades, who knows? But I promise that it'll feel really fucking awesome when it happens. And theirs will be your favorite butt. And you'll forget all about mine and how objectively amazing it is."

Karen's laughter sputtered out of her unintentionally. "It feels weird to laugh while I'm feeling so sad." Her voice started to crack, and Clyde noticed that her eyes were glistening.

"Hey Karen?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to look at him.

"Do you want me to stay longer, or would you like me to go?"

"I...think you should go. I don't want to make you any later for practice, and it'll be too embarrassing if you see me cry."

"Fair enough." He stood up and swung his gear bag over his shoulder. "Take it easy, Karen."

Clyde took off toward the back of the school. Karen buried her head in her knees and let the tears flow.

* * *

Kenny stood up from behind the bushes that lined the school. He had heard everything. Thankfully, Karen had been focused on Clyde, and Clyde had been focused on the cracks in the asphalt, so neither of them had noticed when he awkwardly dove into the shrubbery.

He had come outside with the full intention of kicking Clyde's dudebro ass, but the moment he saw Karen's face, his anger melted away. She looked happy. That was a feeling that wasn't found too often in the McCormick house, so it was precious. Kenny never wanted to be the reason that Karen lost her joy.

That being said, Kenny knew that if he had just stood outside the double doors while staring at them across the way, they'd eventually notice and Clyde would have a field day with that. Still, Kenny kinda wanted to know how Clyde was going to react to Karen's confession. She was his sister and Clyde saw Kenny as a rival, so he could potentially use his sister as a target. So Kenny did the first thing he could think of, which was hiding behind the bushes and sneaking up closer in order to better hear their conversation.

He stepped over the neatly pruned bushes and brushed off the dirt and leaves from his clothing. He casually walked up to the bench where Karen sat, crying, and took a seat next to her. For several minutes, they sat in silence, neither saying a word, nor making a move. Eventually Karen lied down on her side, resting her head in her brother's lap. Kenny stroked her hair while she continued to cry.

"How much of that did you see?" she asked.

"Enough," he replied.

Silence fell between them once more.

"You know, I really liked him," Karen said after a moment.

"I know. And I'm gonna bet that you still do, given the circumstance. Unfortunately, it's not that easy to get over someone that quickly. I don't care who you are, ten minutes ain't enough time."

"Yeah. Yeah, I still do. Does that make me stupid?" she asked.

"Nah," Kenny replied. "It just makes you a human with romantic attractions. I'd be more concerned if you were able to shrug the whole thing off already. You know, without feeling anything."

"I probably shouldn't go to the game, huh?"

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Cause I don't want Clyde to possibly see me in the stands and have him thrown off his game. I could tell that he was already weirded out by me and this whole thing. I don't need him to hate me because I made him lose the game."

Kenny couldn't help but chuckle at his sister's reaction.

"First of all, Clyde isn't the only player on the team. If they lose, it's not solely his fault, and if he screws up, they can take him out of the game. Sure he could be pissed about that, but it's part of the game strategy, you know?"

Karen appeared to relax as he spoke.

"Second, I don't think this is going to faze Clyde too much. Not that your confession wasn't important, but he's one of the captains of the team. If he couldn't put his personal problems aside and focus on the game, then he wouldn't be in that position. I'm not a fan of the guy, but I can give credit where it's due."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," said Karen.

"And third, I think that if he does see you in the stands…well, I think that would make him happy. I hear he performed really well during practices this week cause of how happy your notes made him. Seeing you tonight would show him that you still support him as a person, even if he turned you down romantically. And that...that is something you do for someone you care about."

Karen sat up and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. She sniffled and sighed, wishing she had a tissue in her backpack.

"You're right, Kenny," she said. "I'm gonna go. I wouldn't want Tricia and Senpai to have to sit alone, anyway."

"Senpai?" Kenny asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah. Craig. I started calling him Senpai this week, but he hates it. I'm gonna get him to love it by the end of the semester."

"Oh my god. He's never going to hear the end of that from me," Kenny laughed.

Karen smiled. "Thank you, Kenny. I feel a lot better now."

She leaned in for a hug. Kenny reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in tight.

"I feel bad, though. That you stayed here with me for this long. Aren't you really late for band practice?"

Kenny shrugged. "Eh, it's fine. Mr. Bunting and I have a good relationship. I can get away with it this one time."

* * *

The score was tied seven to seven at the beginning of halftime. Pueblo was fighting hard and both teams were barely giving up any yardage.

The marching band took to the field with a hearty cheer in an attempt to get the crowd re-energized. It was slow going, as the intensity of the game had emotionally drained the fans, but by the time the drumline started up "Superstition", the crowd was back on their feet and ready for more. As the winds held their final note and the drumline held onto a drumroll, Wendy turned around to face the audience. Her arms stretched out to her side and her body slightly at an angle so that she wasn't directly facing the stands, she proudly presented the band. Raucous applause greeted them in return, and if Kenny wasn't losing his mind, he was pretty sure that he could hear Karen's voice over it, screaming his name at the top of her lungs. He was glad that she was feeling better, or at least that she had a pleasant distraction for a while.

The Park County Bulls ran back onto the field as soon as the band had exited. As a whole, the team looked refreshed and ready to win the game.

Clyde looked out into the crowd as he crossed the field. He was able to spot Karen immediately. It didn't hurt that she was sitting next to Craig. He tended to stick out like a sore thumb at these events, arms crossed and not looking remotely interested. Clyde knew that even though sports didn't interest Craig in the slightest, he was a very supportive friend and would never miss a game. Karen sat to his left, waving her arms frantically in the air just like the previous week. It was almost like everything that happened earlier was just a dream. He pointed up into the stands when he swore he caught her eyes. _You can do it, Clyde!_ she yelled over the din. He smiled, glad that she decided to come to the game anyway. Her passion for the team really was contagious.

Clyde had felt drained at the end of the first half. He had been playing defense most of the night to counteract Pueblo's strengths. His hard work earlier in the week had paid off, as the reason that Pueblo had only scored one touchdown was large in part because of him. He felt somewhat better after halftime, but the game was still taking a toll on his body.

Token beckoned the team over for a brief huddle. The Bulls were receiving at the start of the second half, and Token wanted to reiterate what the coach had discussed in the locker room at halftime. Since Clyde had focused on defense for the entire first half, they figured that the other team wouldn't be expecting him to carry the ball. So on the first play, Stan was going to pass the ball to Clyde, who would then try to make a break for the end zone.

The referee called for the teams to get in starting position. Clyde broke from the huddle with his nerves twisted in a bunch. Normally he thrived on being the linchpin of the team, but right now he had some concerns. This was the team's opportunity to push hard and score quickly. They had one chance to do this before the other team caught on. If he screwed this up, it would be very difficult to capture the win.

Clyde took a deep breath once he was in position. He glanced into the stands to see that Karen was watching with excitement. He'd push through and get this touchdown. For her. She was still here, supporting him, so he wanted to give her something to cheer about.

The referee blew the whistle. The ball was snapped to Stan. Clyde burst forward from his position, managing to dodge Pueblo's front line. Stan pulled back his arm and threw it to Clyde, just like he had hundreds of times before.

Clyde looked over his shoulder and caught the ball. He clutched it to his chest like a precious stone. He looked back toward the end zone and caught a glimpse of Pueblo player number 55 charging toward him from his blind side.

He didn't have time to change direction or leap over the player. Number 55 dove forward and tackled Clyde to the ground. Clyde was tackled on his left hip, and as he fell, his legs bent to the side, causing his right knee to twist unnaturally.

Clyde clutched his knee, pulling it toward his chest and screaming in agony. The referee blew the whistle and the Bulls' coaching team ran onto the field. The athletic trainer did a basic assessment of the damage while Coach McKay talked to Clyde in a calm, soothing voice.

The audience was silent while Clyde lay on the ground. The players on both teams took a knee out of respect. Kenny McCormick bit his lip, torn between the schadenfreude of it all and the fact that Clyde was a strong player, and any injury would greatly affect the team, and the entire school. Thankfully Kenny was able to stay quiet, although a small tickle of laughter had threatened to come out while everyone else was silent.

Once they were sure that nothing was broken and that Clyde could put weight on his left leg, he was carried off the field and into the locker room where the athletic trainer could do a more thorough assessment. The crowd applauded as he left.

* * *

The Bulls were able to overcome the loss of their first string tight end and managed to score a field goal with four minutes left. They kept a tight defense on Pueblo to run out the clock, winning the game ten to seven. The crowd roared at the victory like they hadn't witnessed one of the top players be carried off of the field earlier. Kenny stared at the lit windows of the locker room. He couldn't stand Clyde, but even _he_ was feeling some sympathy for him right now. The fans were supposed to adore him, and it looked like no one had stayed to see how he was doing.

Kenny sighed. He owed it to Clyde to check on him, he felt, as a way to repay him for how he handled the situation with Karen earlier. He looked around to make sure no one was around to see him doing something nice for Clyde. When he decided the coast was clear, he went inside.

Kenny was shocked to find the locker room completely empty. At this point in the night, he assumed that there would at least be a few stragglers still in the shower. He wondered if they had booked it out of their because they didn't want to see Clyde hurt, or if it was because it was already beer o'clock. He would have at least guessed that Stan and Token would have stuck around.

Kenny's footsteps echoed throughout the locker room. He came around a row of lockers and saw Clyde sitting alone on a bench. He was looking straight at Kenny. He must have heard him coming. Kenny studied his face. His eyes were wet and puffy, and his cheeks were red.

Clyde narrowed his eyes. "What do you want, McCormick? Did you come in here to try to make this worse than it already is? You wanted to make me feel shittier than I already do?"

Kenny leaned his shoulder against one of the lockers, crossing his arms. "No. I was actually wondering if you were alright."

Clyde looked at him incredulously. "Does it fucking _look_ like I'm alright?! And why do _you_ fucking care?" His chest began to heave as his breaths came faster.

"I have my reasons." There was an uncomfortable silence hanging between them for a moment. The sound of water dripping from the shower echoed in the silence. "It looks like you've been crying."

Clyde bared his teeth, his face gnarled into a grimace. "I wasn't fucking _crying_!" he yelled. _"Because men don't fucking cry!"_

He grabbed his helmet that was still sitting next to him on the bench and threw it across the room. It crashed into the row of lockers Kenny was leaning against. The loud bang made Kenny flinch. Clyde's face scrunched up as tears began to fall down his cheeks. His lungs rapidly filled with air as he began to sob.

Kenny stood still. He didn't say a word. Normally he would verbally prod Clyde for his inability to contain his emotions, but now was not the time for that. He wished that there was something that he could say. Something that would sound genuine and help Clyde know that it really _was_ okay that he was crying. He decided that there were no inspirational words that could placate him right now. So he simply let Clyde cry.

Once Clyde seemed to calm down, Kenny took a step forward.

"Can I sit down?" he asked, gesturing toward the bench.

Clyde looked at him suspiciously, but ultimately nodded. Kenny moved closer to the bench, sitting down, but leaving plenty of room between the two of them.

"Do you, uh...do you wanna talk about it? About your injury?"

Clyde tilted his head up and shot daggers at Kenny through his eyelashes. Kenny raised his hands up and quietly laughed.

"Okay, okay. You don't need to."

Clyde's sniffles punctuated the silence. Kenny began to feel restless just sitting there without getting to the reason why he came to check on Clyde in the first place.

"So, uh...thank you for not taking advantage of my sister's crush on you."

Clyde looked up and stared at Kenny. Kenny could feel his eyes on him, but he couldn't get himself to look back at Clyde.

"I heard the whole thing. Craig came to let me know once he figured out Karen was the one who was sending you love notes or something. It doesn't surprise me, actually. She's talked about you _a lot_ the last two weeks. It's been kinda annoying, to be honest."

Kenny chuckled to himself. Clyde laughed through his nose.

"I initially went outside because I was intending to kick your ass. I thought that you were going to try to use her to get a point and to fuck with me."

"Jesus Christ, McCormick, what kind of person do you think I am?!" Clyde said. It was now Kenny's turn to give the incredulous look. "Okay, okay. That does sound like something I'd do."

"Look," Kenny continued, "I don't understand Karen's taste in men, but I appreciate that you took the time to talk her through things."

"Of course," said Clyde. "Karen seems like a great kid, and I'm not an asshole."

Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Hey! I'm not _that_ much of an asshole. It sucks to be rejected. I've been rejected dozens of times, and I never want to treat others the way I was treated."

"Damn, how bad were these rejections?" Kenny asked.

Clyde sighed. "Well, I suppose I should've known that's what I'd get for propositioning a group of college girls when my dad and I were in Florida on vacation two years ago. A fifteen year old boy trying to invite twenty year old girls to a party in his pants is _not_ recommended."

Kenny burst out laughing. He grabbed the edge of the bench to prevent himself from falling over as he leaned back. Clyde smirked, and eventually joined in the laughter.

Clyde sighed and shifted on the bench. He hissed and grimaced when he tried to bend his knee.

"Do they know what's wrong with it?" Kenny asked, nodding to Clyde's leg. He scooted closer to Clyde so they were side by side.

"The athletic trainer thinks it might be an ACL tear. Those are really common, especially with football. If it is and it's bad enough, I'll need surgery and lots of physical therapy...and I won't be able to play for the rest of the season."

His face scrunched up again as tears began to well in his eyes.

"If I'm out for the rest of the season, then I'm royally fucked. If I'm not playing, then no recruiters are going to see me and there goes my chance to be play college ball. I mean," Clyde sniffled, "I could technically go to open try-outs, but that can be a lot harder, and without an invitation to play football that comes with a scholarship...dude, my grades aren't good enough alone to make it into college. I'd end up staying in South Park forever. I'd probably eventually end up taking over Toe Jams from my dad. I love him, but that's not the life I want. Selling fucking shoes."

Kenny nodded silently. He knew the feeling. The worry about being stuck forever in the town he was born in. A town that, despite many improvements over his lifetime, still didn't have many opportunities for people to thrive doing what they loved.

"They told me I need to get an x-ray to get a full assessment of the damage to my knee, and that I should see a sports orthopedist. There's one in Denver that's open on Saturdays, so my dad and I are going up there in the morning."

"That really sucks," said Kenny.

Silence fell between them once again. Kenny wasn't sure what to say to make things better. Clyde looked deep in thought, several emotions swirling around in his head.

"This...feels weird," said Clyde. "You and I, sitting next to each other. Alone. Not trying to kill each other," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess so," Kenny replied. "But hell, we used to talk like this all the time back in middle school."

Clyde briefly looked Kenny in the eyes. His brown eyes were full of sadness, and perhaps a little regret. Kenny thought that Clyde wanted to say something, but ultimately he looked away, saying nothing.

"Hello? Clyde?" A new voice rung out through the locker room. It was a girl's voice, and Kenny recognized it instantly.

Karen found the two of them, a fresh box of hot pizza in her hands.

"Karen! Where the hell did you get that pizza?" Kenny smirked.

"I called Shakey's and ordered delivery to the football field. I thought they'd laugh at me, but they actually did it!" Her eyes flitted over to Clyde, then back to Kenny. "I was wondering if Clyde would be willing to do a friend date with some pizza. You know, since the romantic date with ice cream isn't an option. I was thinking a lot during the game, and—if it's okay with you, Clyde—I'd like to get to know you better. A-as a friend only! Promise!"

Clyde smiled. "I've never been one to turn down free pizza."

"Well, this is obviously my cue to get the fuck outta here," Kenny said, standing up and stretching. "I've got work tomorrow. Enjoy the pizza. I'll see you back at home, Karen." He motioned to Clyde. "Will your dad be okay giving her a ride home?"

"Yeah, my dad's good for that. I'll make sure she gets back safely."

"You'd better," said Kenny. "'Cause if you don't, I'm gonna beat your ass."

Kenny began to leave the locker room, but lingered in the doorway for a moment. He could hear Karen already asking Clyde a million questions. He smiled, glad that his sister was making another friend.

He sighed wistfully once he got outside. For a moment back there, it had almost felt like old times. Kenny shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked across the field to the parking lot and back to the present.


	11. Chapter Ten

Weekends were always tough for Kenny. While many of his peers spent their weekends relaxing and socializing, his were all business. He always allowed himself to sleep in on the weekends, though. He'd wake up at six, as he did every day, then roll over and get another three to four hours of much needed rest. His weekends were filled with making sure his homework was dealt with, practicing his drum skills, and most importantly, making money. He allowed himself to sleep in because he was usually up until midnight or later for his job, depending on how busy things were on a night to night basis.

Kenny rolled out of bed, scratching at his scalp and stretching out his tired limbs. He headed toward the bathroom, hearing the sounds of Karen singing while she cooked up some eggs and ham. On Saturdays, the two of them spoiled themselves with a real breakfast. Sure, they were discounted eggs that had cracks in them and half-off ham that had yesterday's date as its sell-by deadline, but it was perfectly good food and would've been thrown out anyway, adding to the country's huge food waste problem. Their parents never knew about their fancy breakfasts. That was because they were always either still passed out from the night before, or they were out working if they happened to have an opening shift at whatever job they were currently employed. Kenny was glad for that, however, because he didn't want to hear his father rant about the cost of "luxury foods" again.

The water bill had finally been paid last week and the shower was thankfully putting out water with some decent pressure, but as Kenny stepped inside the shower, the loud string of curses that fell from his mouth let Karen know that something was wrong with the water heater again. He exited the bathroom, clean, but feeling like his testicles may never reemerge from inside his body.

"Hey Kenny!" Karen happily greeted as he entered the kitchen. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, pretty well." He sat at the table and cut into his over easy eggs, watching the yolks ooze out onto the slice of ham. "How was your friendly pizza date?"

"It was great! Clyde's a really sweet guy. I'm still sad that he doesn't feel the same way I do, but I'm glad that he's still willing to be my friend."

"You're not trying to become his friend in the hopes that he'll eventually think about dating you…right?" Kenny eyed Karen with a hint of suspicion. "Just cause that rarely works, so I don't want you getting your hopes up."

"No, no, don't be silly, Ken," she replied through a mouthful of ham. "I wouldn't let myself be kept on the hook like that. I genuinely just want to be his friend. He's fun! I really don't understand why you two aren't friends anymore."

Kenny fell silent. The sound of Karen's fork scraping her plate as she ate filled the room.

"That's a good question," he finally said. "We're just different people now, you know? We fit in with different groups, and we just don't really have anything in common any more."

Karen stared at Kenny while his eyes were focused down on his food. She wasn't buying any of what he was saying. She might have just begun to get to know Clyde well, but she could already tell that he and Kenny were a lot alike in many ways. Still, she decided to keep that thought to herself.

Kenny sighed. "But you know, after last night…well, maybe I should try to get to know him again. For a minute there, while we were talking…it had kinda felt like we were twelve again, you know? It made me feel really good."

Karen finished her meal and stood up to place her dish in the sink.

"Speaking of that, why _were_ you in the locker room with him if you hate him so much?"

"He injured his fucking knee! I felt bad and wanted to check on him cause he's important to the success of the football team, and I wanna play at Mile High Stadium one more time before I graduate. Can't one guy check on another guy's well-being? Damn!"

Kenny quickly got up from his chair and placed his own dish in the sink. He gave Karen a kiss on the forehead and hurried away toward his room to start on his homework. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him as he walked away. He could say what he wanted, but she had a nagging feeling that he didn't hate Clyde as much as he insisted.

* * *

Kenny put his truck into park outside the City Wok. He hopped out and closed the driver's door hard, as it was the only way to ensure that the rusted door would actually stay shut. He had been working for the restaurant off and on ever since he was a kid. It was mostly under the table at that point, as child labor was obviously illegal, even though Mr. Lu Kim never really seemed to care. Still, he had been willing to pay Kenny for various odd jobs back then, like mopping the floors, and it had helped him be able to get nice things for Karen from time to time. Nowadays, he had a work permit and could officially work for the restaurant. He had moved up in the world, from busboy to delivery driver, as City Wok expanded into the take-out market. It was _still_ illegal, as Kenny was a minor and therefore _couldn't_ be a driver, but that had never stopped him or the City Wok establishment before, so why would it now?

He clocked in and leaned against the counter while he waited for the first orders of the day. Once back in his truck with two bags of food, he set up the GPS on his phone, turned over the engine, and headed out on his route.

Kenny enjoyed working as a driver. He enjoyed riding around town, even though his truck had awful mileage, and he was able to meet new people in a friendlier setting than behind the counter. He found that when people were at home or work and he stopped by with the food, they were _much_ nicer than when they came into the restaurant themselves. He assumed that it was because they were in their element, and therefore more comfortable, but maybe it was more because people don't want to look like petty assholes in front of their family or co-workers.

Kenny also enjoyed making the deliveries because of his handful of regulars. He loved his regulars. They always treated him wonderfully, knew him by name, and typically gave him sizable tips. His favorite regulars were the middle aged housewives who shamelessly flirted with him since they thought he was eighteen. He never corrected them. He figured that he was close enough to legal age, and they never made any attempts to push things past playful banter about how handsome he was.

He looped back around to City Wok to pick up more deliveries. He continued this routine for several hours, until the sun finally set and he returned to the restaurant to clock out for his meal break. Mr. Lu Kim usually gave him a bowl of whatever he wanted for free, which was certainly helpful because Kenny wouldn't have eaten anything for dinner otherwise. He took his food—City sweet and sour pork? Chicken? He couldn't tell—and sat at a table in the corner.

Kenny heard the bell over the door ring as it opened, but didn't bother to look up. He heard a lot of giggling and the sound of crutches. _Jimmy must be out on a date_ was his first thought. That was quickly debunked when he heard the voice of the customer ordering.

"Yeah hi, could we have two bowls of the City beef, one of the chicken, and one of the shrimp? Don't worry, ladies. I'll pay."

Kenny nearly choked on the bite he was chewing.

"Nooo, sweetie! Don't you worry about paying! You just focus on nursing that knee so that you can get back to playing. Let us treat you!"

Kenny's eyes slowly panned up to see Clyde and three juniors from school flanking him. Once they were finished paying and received their food, they all sat down around a table on the other side of the restaurant. It was far enough away for Clyde to not notice Kenny staring at him, but close enough so that Kenny could overhear their conversation. Of course, Clyde and friends were so loud that he probably could have heard them outside.

Kenny watched Clyde with an eagle eye for his entire lunch break. Clyde must've been on some good shit, if he was hurting at all, because he didn't look like he was in any pain. The few times he winced and grabbed his knee, it was clearly to get sympathy from his female companions who immediately placed their hands on his and cooed words of encouragement.

"You know, ladies," Clyde said, "my house is empty for the evening since my dad will be at work. If you'd like to join me for some...dessert?"

Kenny rolled his eyes at the god awful pick-up line. Kenny was unsure how Clyde _ever_ got laid with that sort of talk. When the girls looked like they were considering it, but still hesitant, Clyde continued.

"I hear, uh, that endorphins help reduce the perception of pain, so…that would really help me right now."

Clyde bit his lower lip and looked at them with his big brown puppy eyes. The girls didn't stand a chance. They back and forth at each other like they were trying to read one another's thoughts. They nodded at each other and excused themselves to the bathroom, most likely to further discuss the offer on the table.

Kenny stood up and did a hard walk towards Clyde's table. He pulled up a chair and straddled it, resting his hands on the back of the chair and leaning forward. He didn't say a word. He let his eyes speak for him.

Clyde inhaled some of his soda when he saw Kenny sit down. He put down the paper cup and turned his head to cough, gasping for air when he could.

"You're looking well," Kenny muttered once Clyde had regained his breath.

"H-hey, McCormick."

"Crutches, huh? Guess your injury was really serious then."

Kenny spoke in a deadpan voice and his face gave away nothing. Clyde kept averting his eyes from Kenny's stare. He felt his ears getting hot. He had to get rid of Kenny as fast as possible, or he'd risk the girls returning from the bathroom.

"Yeah, well...I'm lucky it wasn't as serious as they'd initially thought. The orthopedist said I don't need surgery, just need to give it some rest and see a physical therapist a few times a week until it's healed. He even said I could be cleared to play again in a couple week."

"Wow. Lucky you," Kenny replied, still with the flat tone of voice.

"Yup."

Clyde took another sip of his soda and looked toward the hallway that led toward the bathrooms. This was one of the more uncomfortable situations he had ever found himself in.

"You're faking it," said Kenny.

 _"Excuse me?"_ asked Clyde.

"Awfully convenient that you just so happened to injure yourself in the _mildest_ way possible. You really think that those girls are going to let you into their panties out of pity because of some pretend injury? Dude, if _this_ is how you plan to get points, then I've already won and we might as well end this shit show right now."

Clyde slowly swallowed the sweet liquid in his mouth and placed the cup down on the table. He finally held Kenny's gaze without blinking. He was too riled up now to be civil about this, so he figured he'd might as well try fighting back.

"I don't know where you're getting this _delusion_ that I'm _faking_ this, but you know what? _Yeah_. I'm gonna use it to my advantage." He leaned forward and spoke quietly so only Kenny could here. "And cause I can't use my knee, they're gonna have to do _all the work."_

A small smile crept up on Clyde's mouth. Kenny cracked his neck and tightened his grip on the chair. Clyde somehow always knew how to shorten his fuse.

The sounds of giggling suddenly reemerged from the bathroom. Kenny looked to the hallway, then back at Clyde. He swung his leg over the seat of the chair as he stood up. He roughly pushed the chair back toward the table and went to clock back into work. He grabbed the new bags of take-out and left the restaurant, lips tightly pursed, nostrils flared, and eyes pointed straight ahead.

They say that you shouldn't drive angry. It's good advice, but Kenny never listened to it. Driving was how he often calmed himself down when he was angry. After some bullshit argument with his father, go for a drive. After coming home and finding out that his mother used the money he loaned her for drugs rather than groceries for the week, go for a drive. Kenny found it soothing. _Usually._

Today was a different story. Today he wasn't just angry at Clyde. No, he was also angry at himself for even thinking for a moment that Clyde maybe hadn't changed as much as he'd thought. That maybe Clyde was someone he could become friends with again. Nope. Clyde was still a selfish idiot jock who thought that the world should just give him things because he scores some fucking touchdowns. _Whoop-dee-fucking-doo._

When he hit the brakes at a stop sign, he glanced at his truck's tape deck. He took a moment to glance through the handful of cassette tapes he had—he bought a dozen for a dollar at the thrift store a few weeks after he got the truck—and slipped in the one that best fit his current mood. Kenny stepped on the gas, revving the engine, as the frenzied guitar that opens Slayer's "Angel of Death" filled the cab. Kenny immediately felt himself relax some, and then he sped off down the road to the next customer.

What exactly was he going to do tomorrow? He had to go to that dumbass Sunday meeting that he agreed to. Craig had even texted him that morning to remind him, writing that _I won't hear the end of it from Clyde if you don't show up_. He would show up, all right. He was just prepared to have Tweek kick his ass afterward because Kenny had a feeling that he was probably going to make a scene in Tweak Bros.

* * *

Craig had lost count of how many times he'd walked past the door. He knew they were all supposed to meet here at 11AM, but he'd ended up showing up ten minutes early. That wasn't _absurdly_ early, but he also knew his friends, and punctuality was _not_ one of their talents. Really, it wouldn't have been a problem to show up early, but Craig couldn't get himself to go inside the coffee shop. Because _he_ was in there.

Tweek wiped down the countertops around him and then wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Letting out a sigh of relief, he replaced the dirty towel with a fresh one and turned to look at the main room. He had made it through yet another Sunday morning rush. The churchgoers always flooded through the doors after mass, which was great for business, but put a lot of strain on his anxiety that he had spent years trying to control. But he made it. He fucking made it.

Tweek noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and looked outside. Some person in all blue was hunched over and pacing back and forth in front of the store. Tweek shrugged to himself. He couldn't judge someone for being weird. He'd always been labeled one of the weird kids in elementary school, so in an odd way, he felt a sort of kinship toward the person. He moved around the counter and began to wipe the empty tables.

Craig stopped and stared at Tweek. He had moved from the spot he was in before. _Oh shit!_ He probably saw him loitering around outside! _Ah fuck,_ Craig thought as he almost went in, but then walked past the door once more. He couldn't go in there _now_ cause it was obvious that he was nervous. He didn't really know why he _should_ be nervous in the first place. Tweek's just a dude. Just a regular dude. Just because he put a heart in Craig's latte, and just because he called him cutie, and just because his piercings were kinda sorta _really hot…_

Craig shook his head. This was fucking dumb. He grabbed his hat on both sides and pulled it down over his eyes, yelling out in frustration and stomping his feet on the sidewalk.

He heard the bell ring, signifying that the door to Tweak Bros. had been opened. Craig immediately froze.

"Hey there, dude," Tweek began. "I don't know what your deal is exactly, and it's none of my fucking business, but…do you wanna come in and have a coffee or something? It's on me. I just...I know how hard things can be sometimes, and I thought maybe it'd help."

Craig slowly looked over his shoulder, adjusting his hat as he did.

"Oh! Hey cutie! I didn't recognize you," Tweek laughed.

Craig felt mortified. He opened his mouth, hoping words would come out. Thankfully, he never had to find out if they would have, because Bebe pulled up to the curb in her car like a golden haired angel in a sleek chariot. Clyde was in the passenger seat, and fumbled with his crutches as he made his way out of the car. Kenny arrived a minute later. They had heard his truck's muffler before he had turned the corner.

"What is this? The fucking Breakfast Club?" Tweek jabbed as Kenny jumped down from the cab of his truck.

"Ha ha, Tweek. The Breakfast Club was on Saturdays and they were in detention together. This is more like," Kenny glanced at the others, "Assholes at Tweak Bros. Getting Coffee."

"Coming to Netflix next month," Tweek added with a laugh. He held the door open while the four if them walked inside. "You want the same shit as last week?"

"You actually remember the orders?" asked Bebe.

Tweek shrugged. "It's a talent of sorts."

They all agreed to have the same drinks and Tweek disappeared to start working on them. As they sat down around their designated table, Kenny stared daggers at Clyde. He clenched his teeth and breathed slowly through his nose, doing his best to not go off on him in the quiet cafe.

"So," said Bebe, "how do we want to go about this? _I_ know what the current score is, but since this is ultimately a grudge between you two dorks, I figure it would be best for you to talk to each other directly about the week, and Craig and I can confirm what we know."

Clyde looked at Kenny for the first time since he had arrived. The color drained from his face. Kenny looked like he wanted to eat his face off. And for what? For trying to use this awful injury—one that could have potentially been the end to any college dreams he had—to his benefit? It's not like he was going to be able to socialize a lot after school when he was at physical therapy. He had to seize opportunities for points where he could. Clyde thought that Kenny would be the sort of person who would understand and appreciate that.

"Well, uh…" Clyde stammered under Kenny's gaze. "I _thought_ I'd be able to score one with Lisa at the party last weekend. We made out for a while, but when I tried to push things further, she stopped me and said _No thanks. Been there, done that_. Dammit, we dated for like _two days_ in the fourth grade! She has barely _been there_ and she definitely didn't _do that._ "

Clyde's pout of rejection made Kenny snort quietly, and he felt his resentment begin to melt away.

"And how did your foursome go yesterday?" Kenny asked dryly.

Clyde glared back at him, but Bebe and Craig's interest piqued.

"Foursome? What foursome? You didn't tell me about this, Clyde!" Bebe exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm pretty damn sure you would've blown up my phone with that one, dude," said Craig.

Clyde groaned and buried his head in his arms. He mumbled something unintelligible into his sleeves.

"What was that, Donovan?" Kenny asked. He placed his hand up to his ear and leaned in.

"I didn't have a fucking foursome! The girls said that they had other plans, but one of them gave me her number. I tried calling it last night…" Clyde sighed and covered his eyes with his hands. "...and it was the number to the Whole Foods."

The other three at the table burst out laughing at Clyde's misfortune. An older couple a few tables over turned to look at them with judgement in their eyes. When they had finally calmed down, Kenny looked up and nodded at Tweek as he approached with drinks in tow. Tweek moved around the table, placing the drinks down in front of their respective customers. He placed the final cup in front of Craig. The milky foam on top was a mess of jagged lines.

"Is it...supposed to be your hair?" Craig asked. His face screwed up in a confusion, and the question caused his friends to lean in, curious at what he was seeing.

"Nah, sorry about that. It's supposed to be a leaf, but I fucked up. I was practicing it all week so I'd have it ready for you the next time you came in."

A small smile graced Craig's lips. His fingers brushed against the fringe of his hat strings.

"I'm kinda off today," Tweek continued. "Some customers were talking politics in line earlier, and they were clearly the kind who feel that I, and others like me, should be dead or hidden away from 'good civilized people'. Pissed me off, but I was stuck in the middle of a rush, so it wasn't like I could just go off on them, you know?"

Kenny sat up in his seat. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," said Tweek, raking his hand through his hair. "I will be. Now that you guys have your drinks, I'm gonna go out back and have a smoke. Want to join me?"

"Of course, dude! Do you mind waiting a little bit longer, though?" asked Kenny.

Tweek winked at Kenny. "For you, babe, always."

He looked down at Craig, who was holding his latte and staring at the odd art. He leaned down next to him. "I'll get it right next time, cutie," he said softly into Craig's ear.

Bebe gave Craig a knowing look as Tweek walked away.

"What?" Craig asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

"You've got it bad, Craiggy," she grinned.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he said flatly. "And don't call me Craiggy. That's fucking dumb."

"Mmhmm. You can keep denying it, but that pink in your cheeks is giving you away."

Craig cleared his throat and tried to steer the conversation away from cute baristas who he may or may not have a crush on.

"So we know that Clyde is still at zero points. What about you, Kenny? I didn't notice any guys with the infamous 'McCormick walk' this week."

Clyde grimaced and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," Kenny grinned. "I knew that Donovan wasn't going to be much of a challenge, so I kept it simple. I hooked up with Red last weekend. I didn't send her a satisfaction survey, but I'm pretty sure she had a good time."

Bebe nodded. She knew that Clyde was already aware of Kenny scoring, but continued for the sake of it being official. The last thing she wanted was to be blamed by one of these idiots for messing up the _validity_ of the competition.

"I have confirmation from Red. I mean, you both made it pretty _obvious_ at the party, but the next morning, Red texted me all about it." She glanced at Kenny, then looked down at the table as her ears began to turn red. "She, ah...went into _very_ graphic detail."

"If you liked what you heard, know that my door is always open if you want to give me a try yourself, Bebe." He rested his chin on his hands and flashed her a lascivious grin. When she looked back at him, he gave her a wink.

Bebe tugged at the collar of her shirt. Did Tweek crank the heat in here or was it just her?

"I, uh…" she hesitated when she saw that Clyde was staring daggers at her. "I wouldn't want to interfere in the competition, but, uh…" She leaned over toward Kenny. "Hit me up in the spring," she whispered.

"Bebe!" Clyde whined.

"What? Your silly game will be over by then and you and I aren't dating, so why does it matter if I hook-up with Kenny?"

"Yeah, Clyde," Kenny mocked, "why does it matter if I make Bebe come so many times that she loses count?"

Clyde slammed his hands on the table and stood up. At least he tried to stand up, before his knee gave out on him and he frantically grabbed for his crutches. Craig reached a hand out to offer his help, but Clyde scoffed at it.

"I'll be in the car," he said quietly.

They watched as he awkwardly hopped toward the exit and fumbled with the door before heading outside. Bebe looked concerned. Kenny rolled his eyes. Craig frowned and turned to look at the others.

"You guys can be real dicks, you know that? And that's coming from _me_."

"I didn't think he'd take it that seriously," said Bebe.

"He's too emotional anyway," Kenny replied. "He needs to grow a thicker skin if he wants to be the 'number one guy' in school or whatever."

"He's been through a lot the last few days. I should've just let it go," said Bebe.

"Why? It's not your responsibility to keep him happy all the time." Kenny finished drinking his latte and pushed the mug into the middle of the table.

"I get it, though," Bebe added. "It's not always easy to listen to your ex flirting in front of you."

"That was a bit more than casual flirting, Bebe. That was a full-on proposition and planning," said Craig.

"I'm gonna go make sure he's okay," said Bebe.

"I'm gonna go smoke with Tweek," Kenny mumbled.

"Oh, _please_ guys, let me pay, I _insist_ ," Craig said sarcastically to the air once he had been abandoned by his friends.

He looked at the check and opened his wallet. Luckily he had enough cash to cover the bill and leave a tip. He approached the empty counter and borrowed one of the pens by the register. Craig scribbled something down and left the receipt and cash under the pen.

 _Thanks for the latte. I expect that leaf to look really fucking good next time. =) -C_

Craig bit his lip, feeling somewhat queasy that he had actually left a smiley face. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried out of the shop before he could change his mind.

* * *

"Hey, you finally made."

Tweek held out a cigarette for Kenny once he had shut the back door behind him. Kenny graciously accepted it from him and pulled his own lighter out of his pocket.

"Yeah, thanks for waiting. After all of that," Kenny motioned toward the building, "I really need this."

Tweek eyed Kenny as he lit his cigarette and took the first drag.

"A meeting of friends has you stressed?" asked Tweek.

"That wasn't a meeting of friends," Kenny sneered.

"Are you sure? Cause the four of you met at the same place drinking the same stuff a week ago. That sounds like a friend date to me."

"And you say that knowing full well how I feel about Donovan? Are you off your meds, dude?"

"Fuck you," Tweek laughed. "And _no_ , I'm not. Yeah, I know you _say_ you hate him, but you do talk about him _a lot_. Typically, if I hate someone, I don't want to talk about them ever and I sure as shit don't want to be in the same room as them, let alone the same table. So every once in a while, I question that hate of yours. You might not _like_ him, but you do seem kind of _obsessed_ with him, to be honest."

Kenny stared at Tweek while he slowly exhaled smoke into the morning air. The alley behind Tweak Bros was quiet and still, save for the muffled sound of some cars passing nearby. Tweek flicked the ash from his cigarette off to the ground. It glowed for a moment and died out on the cool asphalt.

"I take your silence as a sign that I'm right."

Kenny groaned. "This isn't _Mean Girls_ , and he's no Regina fucking George."

He crouched down and leaned back against the cement wall.

"And if it _were_ , _he'd_ be the one obsessed with _me_. I only talk about him so much because he's _always_ doing something _dumb_. Smacking me in the face with his glove. Trying to fight me during practice. Pretending to injure himself to get sympathy. He's stupid and pathetic."

"Wait. You think he faked that knee injury?" Tweek narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"Obviously. Act like it's a career ending injury, get people to pity you, but then 'oh, it wasn't anything and I'll be fine!'" Kenny waved his hands wildly in the air.

"Dude. He's fucking lucky that it wasn't as bad as they thought. Like he must have a guardian angel or something. His dad was in here getting a coffee before work and he was telling me about it."

"Why would he bother telling you about it? You and Donovan barely know each other."

"Eh, you know how parents can be. They assume everyone in our graduating class knows and likes each other. It's kinda cute, in a way. Completely false, but cute."

Tweek dropped his butt to the ground and squashed it under his boot. Pulling out another one and quickly lighting it, he continued.

"Anyway, he was telling me that the doctor had told him that he had been expecting an ACL tear, but it was luckily only a…what the fuck did he call it?…grade two MCL sprain? So like an ACL tear requires surgery and almost a year of recovery. That shit is serious. But a small MCL tear can only take a few weeks of rest and rehab. Now do you really think that Clyde would be able to convince his dad to not only be in on the ruse, but to go around town and spread that detailed a story?"

Tweek inhaled, held his breath for longer than usual, then exhaled with a satisfied sigh.

"You've told me enough times that he's an idiot. That doesn't sound like something an idiot would be able to pull off, so he's either not as dumb as you think he is, or you're full of shit, Ken. I'm gonna assume the latter. Cause you're fuckin' obsessed with him."

Kenny shifted uncomfortably in place. Tweek calling people out on their crap was one of the things Kenny loved about him, but he never liked it being directed at him. Especially not now. Especially not when it came to Clyde.

Clyde had been vulnerable around Kenny on Friday night, and it was the first time in ages that they had shared something that felt real. Something substantial. Something resembling their friendship before things had fallen apart. It was a moment when both of their defenses were down. So when Kenny saw Clyde taking advantage of that vulnerability, trying to use it for points in his foolish game, it felt like it somehow invalidated that moment. Kenny knew that Tweek was right, but he didn't want to admit it out loud.

"Whatever, Tweek." He stepped on his own finished butt and moved to the propped open back door. "I'll see you tomorrow. I gotta go home and get ready for work."

* * *

Clyde was silent on the ride home. Bebe tried to get him to talk, to get him to engage her further on the issue that was upsetting him. She ended up having a one-sided argument instead.

 _"I'm sorry I upset you in there. I didn't think it was that big a deal."_

 _"Is this your way of trying to say you want to date me again? Cause if it is, it's really not a great way to go about it."_

 _"Look, it's not up to you to decide who and when I get to fuck, Clyde! I can't believe you even have the audacity to think you get to control me like that! Some friend you are!"_

"I'm sorry I snapped like that," she sighed as she pulled into the Donovan's driveway. "I'm just trying to figure out why you be so upset about the idea that I might hook-up Kenny. Like, it hasn't even _happened_...I don't know if it ever will, and if it _does_ , it won't be for any points. I know you don't like him very much, but-"

"Don't like him much? Bebe...that doesn't even _begin_ to describe how I feel about Kenny McCormick. I _loathe_ him. I _despise_ him. My hatred runs deep. The guy purposely antagonizes me whenever he gets the chance. I don't know why he feels the need to apparently only harass _me_ , but that's what he fucking _does_. And what hurts the most is that I _thought_ I saw a different side of him the other day. Like...the side everyone always swears is there. This cool guy that makes everyone feel at ease. You know he came to see me after the game?"

"No, I didn't," Bebe quietly replied.

"Yeah. He did. And after I talked with him, I felt _better_. I felt like he _understood_ the fear I felt. But it turns out it was just part of his plan to be a grade A jackass. The next day he's fucking saying I faked this injury. You know me, Bebe. I'm not that good an actor! Why would I risk _everything_ I've built for myself with football on faking an injury? Cause I'm not going to be able to play next weekend for sure, and who the fuck knows if I'll be cleared for the one after that! Football is my everything, and I really don't know what I'd do without it. But he doesn't care about that. He just gets off shoving my face in the dirt. So that... _that_...is why I'm upset about the thought of you and him together."

Clyde opened the door and placed his crutches on the outside of the car. He positioned himself on the outer edge of the seat, then turned back to look at Bebe.

"Babe, you could sleep with the entire school and I'd be there to give you a million high fives. Just not _him_. _Please_ not him."

Clyde stood up and hopped forward, nudging the door shut with his hip. Bebe watched as he made his way up the driveway and into his house. She ran both of her hands through her thick curls and tugged. Letting out a groan of frustration, she shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of the driveway. As well as she knew both guys, she really couldn't figure out just why they were making each other this crazy.

"Fucking _Christ_ , boys are so dumb," she sighed.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Clyde stewed alone in his room. He had brought up an ice pack from the freezer when he got home, placing it on his knee once he had removed the brace. He rolled the ibuprofen bottle back and forth between his hands while he sat in his computer chair with his bad leg elevated on his bed. The sound of the pills tapping against each other as they moved was somewhat soothing.

Clyde certainly needed it. He was still miffed from the meeting earlier in the day. Bebe and Kenny. Just the thought made Clyde's skin crawl. He had meant what he had said to Bebe; he _didn't_ care who she slept with, as long as it _wasn't_ Kenny. If they ever did hook-up, he knew he would never hear the end of it. Kenny already sent Clyde pictures of himself with Red to mock him and make him feel inferior, what would stop him from doing the same with Bebe? He'd never be able to unsee that. He'd have to stop being friends with Bebe and move to another country. Maybe then he'd be able to have some sort of normal life.

 _McCormick_. He always had a way to ruin everything.

Clyde silently cursed himself. It was his stupid idea to begin with, to have some sort of weekly meeting. Why on Earth would he willingly put himself in a situation where he has to be around Kenny? On a weekend, no less! He let out a bellowing yell of frustration. It felt amazing, and he was glad that he was home alone because his dad would have been quite concerned by the sound.

Not being able to play football was definitely the suckiest part of injuring his knee, but the second suckiest was having to stay off of it and keep it elevated all the time. Sure, Clyde loved to text and play videogames, but he could only do that for so long before he began to feel stir crazy.

His mind drifted to thinking about Kenny. He thought about how Kenny was already in the lead, and how he'd probably continue to be in the lead now that Clyde had this injury. It wasn't fair. Clyde had challenged him to this with the assumption that he'd easily win, but it was obvious that it was going to be much more difficult than he'd expected. He needed to do something. Something that would make it much more difficult for Kenny to continue to dominate Clyde.

A smile crept across Clyde's face. He had an idea. It wouldn't stop Kenny for the rest of the semester, but it was certainly an idea that would buy some time for Clyde to catch up. It'd be risky, though—if he was caught, Kenny would have his ass—but it was a risk he'd have to take. Clyde quickly picked up his phone and called the one person who could help him out in this situation.

"Heeeey Kev! What's shaking, buddy?"

"What do you need this time, Clyde?" Kevin replied dryly.

"Why would you say that? Can't a brother just call his friend to say hi?"

"Sure he could. Only you never call me unless you need some sort of tech support."

"That can't be right."

"Okay then. So what did you want to talk about?" asked Kevin.

Clyde was silent for a moment. "Um. I need help with photoshop."

"Goddammit Clyde! I'm gonna start charging you for this stuff."

"Wait, wait, hang on! I just need to know if the computer lab still has it installed. I remember how to use the program from the last three times you helped me."

"Of course we do. What kind of computer lab would we be if we didn't have something as basic as photoshop?"

"Well, this is Park County High we're talking about," said Clyde.

"Hmm. True."

"I'll be by the lab tomorrow during third period. It's not like the teacher who has to watch my study hall will ever know I'm gone. I'll see you then?"

* * *

Clyde knew that this was a risky move. If someone caught him putting up these flyers—these beautiful flyers that he designed himself, with a little help from Kevin—then this whole plan went up in flames. There were only so many opportunities for him to spread them around the school when no one was around. Before homeroom, he could be caught by teachers. After school, there were too many students remaining because of clubs, band, and sports. The only time that was his safest bet, he decided, was during a class period. He knew skipping study hall again was a bit risky. Not that anyone really cared about study hall, but the designated babysitter would be more likely to take notice of his absence two days in a row.

Clyde felt a rush of adrenaline as he moved through the hallways as fast as his crutches would let him. He had no clue how Jimmy did this every day of his life. Clyde had to make sure that people would see these flyers. They could easily go unnoticed. High school life was so full of meetings and fundraisers and dances and games that most students didn't think to actually read what they said. But what Clyde's flyer had to say was very important. Very inaccurate, but important nonetheless.

Clyde jolted when a classroom door opened up behind him and students began to pour out. He had become so wrapped up in hanging his flyers that he had lost track of time. Token and Nichole waved at him once they made it out of the room. He moved toward them, trying to put as much distance between the flyers and himself. It was imperative that they not be tied to him.

"Hey Clyde!" said Nichole. She opened her arms for a big welcoming hug.

"Hey you two," Clyde replied, trying his best not to seem suspicious. He returned Nichole's hug and gave Token a fist bump. "What's up?"

"Not much, not much. Our teacher let us out a few minutes early. I don't have any solid proof, but he did look at his phone with this shocked expression on his face, so I'm guessing he actually got a response on Tinder," said Token.

"How do you know he's on Tinder?" asked Clyde.

"Oh please, he talks about it all time time," Nichole laughed. "It's not professional at all, but it is pretty funny."

"So why are you out and about, hmm?" asked Token.

Clyde's eyes flashed wide with panic for a second and then returned to normal. He scanned Token and Nichole's faces. They seemed to not have noticed.

"Ahh, you know. Just...had to take a piss at the end of study hall. Figured why bother going back for five minutes."

His two friends nodded, accepting his answer. Token gave Nichole a look that Clyde couldn't translate, then she smiled.

"Hey, so Token and I were wondering. Would you want to get some food after practice tonight?"

"Hell yeah! You know I'm always down to eat."

"Oh good! Cause we have something we want to talk to you about, but it probably shouldn't be here at school."

"It's not anything bad, is it?" Clyde quirked an eyebrow. He looked back and forth between them before relaxing his face. "Nah, let's be real. As long as Mexican food is involved, you could tell me pretty much anything."

"Want to walk together to next period?" Token asked.

"Sure! Let's, uh, go this way, though," Clyde suggested. He wanted to steer them away from the flyers for now. They'd have plenty of time to see them later. He didn't want them to possibly figure out that he was the mastermind behind them.

"Why?"

"Someone got sick in the hallway," Clyde said quickly. "It's a three-janitor job. It's just safer to not have to deal with it."

"Oh no! Yeah, Token, let's not go that way, or I'm gonna be sick, too!" said Nichole.

The three friends ventured off in the opposite direction of the flyers. Moments later, the bell rang and the hallways filled with students. Clyde tried to act like his normal outgoing self, laughing, smiling, and waving to friends and fans, but inside his stomach twisted and turned. He couldn't go back now. People would have already seen what he did. He just hoped that he didn't run into Kenny this week.

* * *

Kenny felt great after fourth period. Jazz band does wonders for the soul. He walked down the halls with Heidi, Kyle, and Tweek, making small talk about the new piece they had sight read that day. Kyle was the first one to notice that something was off.

"Hey. Why is everyone staring at us?"

Sure enough, the majority of the student body was gawking at them as they passed by. Some were giggling. Others had a look of disgust on their face. Heidi started to feel self-conscious and tugged at her beanie. They began to walk faster, but that didn't make it any better. Tweek overheard someone whisper Kenny's name as he passed.

"They're not staring at us. They're staring at Kenny."

"Why would they be staring at me? I mean, I know I'm a hot piece of ass, but I've never had this much attention," Kenny chuckled.

Heidi sprinted forward to a group of girls who were standing in a semicircle, staring at something on the wall. She squeezed her way through the circle and popped up in front of a piece of paper hanging on the wall. Her eyes widened as she quickly scanned the paper. She reached out and ripped it down from the wall, turning around to push back through the now-complaining crowd. Once she broke through, she walked up to Kenny and shoved the paper into his hands.

In large text, read _"Kenny McCormick Gave Me a STD!"_ The text was accompanied by a sick emoji, a picture of a prescription pill bottle, and Kenny's face in a circle with a slash through it. It was almost funny in its execution, but clearly the school population was buying it as fact.

Kenny's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck? I never… I always use protection! I get tested regularly!"

"When was the last time you got tested?" Kyle asked.

"Uh...last year, I think?"

"Sounds like it's time to get tested again, my friend," Kyle said, clapping his hand on Kenny's back.

Tweek, Heidi, and Kyle continued onward, leaving Kenny standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at the flyer. Kenny took his phone out of his pocket and ducked into the nearest bathroom. He opened up his chat with Red and quickly shot her a text.

 _Did I give you a STD?_

 _WHAT?! No!_

 _I don't think so!_

 _Did you?!_

 _No! At least I don't think so!_

 _What the hell are you talking about, Ken?_

 _[photo attached]_

 _Did you make these and put them up around school?_

 _No! I'd have better design skills than that._

 _But seriously, I would have sent you a text if that was the case._

 _I wouldn't have made a tacky flyer and posted it around school._

 _Okay. I trust you. I'm just trying to figure out who did so I can talk to them._

 _Cause if I'm positive for something then I need to contact recent partners._

 _And you should probably get tested, too. Just to be safe._

 _Yeah, I know. Fuck, I hate this._

 _I'm sorry to drag you into my mess._

 _It's fine. Shit happens, right? I'm just happy that you let me know._

 _Cause a lot of dudes wouldn't._

 _Anyway, I'll hit you up later._

Kenny put his phone down on the top of the sink. He leaned over, shoulders hunched, and stared down at the drain. He tried to run a mental list of the people he had sex with over the summer, and even last spring. He always prided himself in remembering the names of everyone he hooked up with, but he was blanking on some of them and that made him anxious. It couldn't be any of the exchange students who had visited South Park over the summer. They were going to school in Denver, and who would go through the work to travel out here to this podunk town to place flyers about some guy you hooked up with? No, it had to be someone at this school.

Kenny looked up into the mirror. His hair was a mess from rocking out to the beat in jazz band. He wet his hands and raked them through his locks until he was satisfied with the results. He sighed and picked up his phone, shoving it into his jeans. He was already late for US History, and he knew he'd get chewed out by his teacher. Maybe if he was lucky, his teacher would have seen the flyers and take pity on him.

The rest of the day wasn't any easier for Kenny. People continued to stare at him and share whispered jokes and rumors about him. Even his fellow bandmates looked at him differently. It wasn't like his life was ruined by this—he wasn't the kind of guy to think his entire life balanced on his high school experience—but it certainly put a damper on it.

Band rehearsal felt tense when it was supposed to be relaxing and fun. When he tried helping some of the underclassmen with their stick placement, they flinched at his touch, like they thought they would get an STD simply by coming in contact with him. Tweek kept sending him looks from the cymbal line, but couldn't say whatever was on his mind during rehearsal. Once a water break was called, he was on top of Kenny.

"So who do you think did it?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Kenny responded, trying his best to feign ignorance.

"You know damn well what I mean. Out of all of the people you were raw dogging over the summer, who do you think got the STD?"

Tweek acted so nonchalant about the entire thing. It honestly infuriated Kenny. This was a serious allegation to him, and Tweek was acting like it was no big deal.

"Hey, I always practice safer sex, for your information. There was no raw dogging going on. I'm an ethical slut, thank you very much."

Tweek didn't often see Kenny pout, but he was certainly getting a front row seat right now.

"Sorry, man. Didn't know it was such a sore subject. Always with the safer sex. Got it."

Tweek took a long drink from his water bottle. A trail of water dribbled down from his mouth, over his chin, and down the contour of his neck. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he continued.

"Anyway, my question remains. Who do you think made the flyer?"

"Fuck, I wish I knew. I know it wasn't Red. I texted her immediately and I don't think she would lie to me. She and I are on a similar wavelength when it comes to sex, so I think if I had passed something to her, she would've come to me directly. Craig would've, too. He can be a bitch sometimes, but he would never humiliate a friend like that."

"You've had sex with Craig?" Tweek asked quietly.

"Yeah." Kenny's voice trailed off as he slipped into deep thought. Mentally going through his sexual rolodex required his full attention.

Tweek fell quiet next to Kenny. He took another swig from his water bottle. While his head was tipped back, his eyes glanced over to the top of the bleachers. They were empty. Tweek sighed and stretched his legs out on the grass.

"You wanna know my theory?" he asked, bringing Kenny back to the present. "I think Clyde made them."

"Donovan?" Kenny scoffed. "I told you, he's too stupid and simple to think of something so diabolical."

Tweek rolled his eyes.

"My dude, you clearly took nothing away from our conversation the other day…" Tweek muttered under his breath. "I'm just saying that since you guys are always at each other's throats, it's at least possible that he'd do something to humiliate you publically. Which this has clearly done."

"I'll survive. I'm gonna get tested to prove I'm clean." Kenny unscrewed the cap to his water and rolled it around between his fingers. "I mean, like…there's no fucking way he could've done this! All he ever thinks about is football and protein shakes and dumbass competitions to see who's the top guy in school!"

"What was that?" Tweek asked, his eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

Kenny immediately took a long gulp of his water so that he didn't have to answer.

Tweek shook his head and continued. "Whatever, man. How about this? I bet you twenty bucks that it's Clyde. If it wasn't him, or even if we never figure out who did it for certain, you win. I am _that_ fucking certain."

"Bitch, you know I don't have twenty bucks," Kenny laughed.

"I know for a fact you do. I know those horny housewives love to make it rain all over your City Wok-smelling ass."

"Hey everyone! Let's come in to concert band formation to run through the music together!" Wendy called out on her megaphone.

"Fine, dick" Kenny laughed as he stood up and dusted off his jeans. "But you'd better make sure you keep that money nice and safe so that it's ready for when I'm right."

* * *

"Oh, Taco Bell! Why do you have to be so fucking delicious?" Clyde took a huge bite of his cheesy crunchy something-resembling-a-taco and bounced up and down in his chair.

Nichole rested her chin in her hands, smiling and giggling at her friend. Token took a sip of his Diet Coke before taking a deep breath. He could talk to his best friend about anything, yet he still felt nervous.

"So what did you guys wanna talk to me about?" Clyde interjected in between bites.

Token glanced at Nichole. Looking at her made him feel better. She was always able to calm him when was nervous. She must have felt his eyes on her because she turned to look at him and smiled. That smile gave him the confidence to do anything.

"We've known each other for a long time, right?" Token asked.

"Yeah, dude! Since you moved here in fourth grade!" said Clyde.

"And would you say we've gotten close over the years?"

"You're one of my best friends, Black Thunder!"

Nichole's giggle turned into a full out guffaw. "That is too cute! You never told me he called you that."

Token turned to Nichole. "Yeah, that's cause I hate it. Anyway," he said, facing Clyde once again, "would you say that we can talk to each other about anything? Nothing is off limits?"

"Yeah, bro. What's up?"

"Well...Nichole and I were wondering if you would be open to having a threesome with us."

Clyde inhaled sharply while drinking his Mountain Dew and began to cough as some of the sugary drink went down the wrong pipe. Token and Nichole waited patiently for him to regain his composure, hoping this wasn't his way of answering. Clyde took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He looked back and forth between his two friends, trying to read their expressions. They had to be joking. Right? Yet the looks he saw reflected back at him were completely serious.

"You had me going there for a minute, you guys," Clyde anxiously laughed. "That's not the funniest joke ever, but you got me."

"That wasn't a joke, Clyde," said Nichole. "This is something that Token and I have talked about for a while."

"You guys talked about having a threesome with me?" Clyde's face radiated embarrassed heat.

"Not specifically you. At least it didn't start that way," Nichole replied. "We've been talking about trying to have a threesome with another guy since last spring. It could have been anyone, in theory, but after much searching and discussion, we decided that you were who we wanted to ask."

She smiled sweetly at Clyde. It left him with a very confused half-chub. Normally he wouldn't be aroused by a smile from his friend, but now that he knew some of her darker intentions, he couldn't help but wonder what other dirty secrets she might be hiding.

"Okay. Okay now. I have some questions. Token, you're gay?"

Token's head fell forward, a sigh escaping his lips. He had a feeling that this was going to be a topic that came up.

"No, I'm not gay, Clyde, and before you ask," he put his hand up to pause Clyde, whose mouth was already open, "yes, I am attracted to men. _And_ women. I'm bisexual."

"Both of us are," Nichole added.

Clyde stared at them, mouth agape, trying to process all of this. He knew about bisexuality. He knew it was hot when a girl was bi, but he didn't know a lot of guys who were. Craig was gay, of that he was certain. That Tweek guy might be bi, cause he certainly seemed smitten with Craig, but he didn't know if he liked more than just guys. ...Kenny. Kenny definitely had slept with men and women, so he was probably bi. _Ugh_. Why did everything always seem to come back to him?

"I always forget about bisexuality," said Clyde.

"Yeah...a lot of people do. We don't talk to many people about it, and we've been together for so long that people just assume we're straight." Nichole had a faintly sad look in her eyes.

"Okay then. So...why a threesome? Are you guys getting bored of each other? Like you're trying to spice things up or something? We haven't even graduated high school yet!"

It was Token's turn to laugh. "No, Clyde. We're not getting bored of each other. We've just been together for so long that we've been able to like...develop and explore out sexuality together. So we feel comfortable sharing fantasies with each other, and this is an experience we want to try."

Clyde's eyes were still wide as saucers. He'd only dated a few girls, with his relationship with Bebe had been the longest, but he'd never shared sexual fantasies with any of them. He thought fantasies were supposed to be left to porn. The idea of feeling safe and secure enough in a relationship to be open and honest with your partner? That was next level stuff. That was-

"Hashtag relationship goals," he said.

"We decided to ask you because you're a close friend whom we feel comfortable around," said Nichole. "You're sweet, you're cute as hell, and unlike a lot of the other guys at school, we trust you to respect our boundaries."

"And look, we know this is a lot to take in all at once," Token added. "That's, uh, kind of why we asked you out to get food. We wanted you to be in a safe, familiar place when we asked you."

"When you thought safe and familiar place for me, your first thought was Taco Bell?" Clyde raised an eyebrow in question.

"...Were we wrong?" asked Token.

Clyde shifted in his seat. He glanced down at his food, then up at the ceiling.

"No. You're not wrong. I'm just kind of miffed that I'm so associated with tacos that even my closest friends can't think of anything else."

"Well, it was either here or on the football field, and we figured that might be a little awkward. Asking you to linger on the field after practice and then dropping this on you."

"We thought you might think we were expecting you to have the threesome right then and there on the fifty yard line," Nichole giggled.

"Yeah, that sounds like something I'd think," Clyde smiled. "Um…" His hands fidgeted on his lap, anxious and feeling like they needed to be in constant motion. "...let me think about this?"

"Of course, dude. Take all the time you need," said Token.

"I mean, like...would you be expecting...like...you and me to...you know?"

"Nah, dude. I know you're straight. You wouldn't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. We could just focus on Nichole, if you wanted."

Clyde looked down at his fidgeting fingers. His mind felt foggy. He never thought something could cause him to lose his appetite, but he didn't really feel like finishing his food right now.

"Anyway," said Nichole, "It's getting kinda late, and I still have to do my homework."

The three friends picked up their trash and tossed it out as they left the restaurant. They exchanged hugs as they went to their separate cars.

"Hey, Clyde," Token said after he opened the door to his BMW sedan. "Remember, it's your choice. We won't be offended if you don't want to do this. We don't want this to hurt our friendship."

He closed the door and started the ignition. The couple quickly pulled out of the parking lot and down the road, leaving Clyde alone with his tangled mess of thoughts.

He didn't want this to hurt their friendship either, but he felt like it had already changed. Just the act of them proposing a threesome put their friendship on a whole other level. Whether it ended up happening or not, he'd always look at them differently.

Why, though?

He was still best friends with Bebe, and he had seen her naked countless times. He knew about the tiny mole on her inner thigh. He knew that squeezing her hips in just the right spot when she was close to orgasm would send her over the edge. Yet he didn't look at her any differently than he had before they had dated. Was it because they had been in love at one point? Like the sex had meant something, so it didn't feel awkward now that they were just friends? Sex with Token and Nichole would just be casual, right? People don't just have casual sex with their friends.

Sex with friends. They'd see each other naked. Token and Clyde had been playing sports together for years, so they had obviously shared a shower together hundreds of times, but no one really ever looked at their teammates when they were showering. Well, maybe Clyde had taken a peek at some of the guys here and there—but that was strictly in order to know if he was average or not in the junk department! Token and Nichole would be getting a real good look at him naked, and he'd be getting a look at them. What if Token later resented him for having seen Nichole naked? What if she resented him?

Also, he was straight! Sure, Token said they could focus on Nichole, but their naked bodies would probably still touch at some point, right? That's how threesomes worked. At least that's what Clyde had seen in most porn. Even if they didn't touch, they'd still be watching each other fucking. Was Token actually okay with his best friend fucking his girlfriend in front of him? Was that fair? Wasn't that cheating?

Clyde put his car in park, uncertain about how he got home in the first place. He didn't remember driving home. He had been too lost in his head. He took a deep breath, glad that he hadn't gotten into any accidents while he was apparently on auto-pilot.

* * *

The next day wasn't much better for either Kenny or Clyde. They were both stuck in their heads, in their own problems. They were so distracted that they blindly crossed paths several times in the hallways without noticing each other. This was not lost on their friends. However, they didn't bother bring it up to either of them. Honestly, the peace and quiet was welcome after the past few weeks.

* * *

In the locker room after practice, Clyde felt more self-conscious than normal. Now that this proposition hung over his head, he wondered if Token was going to be appraising him in the shower. Like what if Token started staring at him, and decided that he had too much of a belly? What if he realized that Nichole wouldn't want to be with someone who had some squish in the middle? Or what if he looked downstairs? Clyde always thought he was a good size, but what if they didn't feel it was enough?

He kept his towel tightly around his waist for as long as he could. He wished he could have worn it into the shower, but a soggy towel was the worst. A bunch of the guys were still showering, including Token. Unfortunately for Clyde, the only free nozzle was right next to him.

"Hey, dude!" Token greeted.

His smile seemed brighter today. His eyes almost seemed to twinkle when he saw Clyde. Was this real? Or was Clyde starting to see things?

"Hey," Clyde mumbled.

"Great practice today. I think we're gonna crush Bennett on Friday. We're gonna show them that there's no such thing as the home field advantage," Token chuckled.

Did Token's laugh always sound this melodic? It was actually kind of cute.

"You've been awfully quiet today, dude," said Token. "Are you okay?"

Clyde ran his hands through his hair as the water poured over it. He tried to occupy him with the shower to buy him time to find the right words to say. The right words to sum up how he was feeling.

"Is it about last night?" Token lathered up his shower sponge and began to wash up. "Cause if it is, seriously, don't worry about it. Just forget we ever said anything. It is kind of a weird thing to be asking a friend."

Clyde began to furiously scrub his shampoo into his hair. "It's not that. I mean, it is. It's about last night, but it's not what you think. I'm just feeling…" His voice trailed off as he looked over at Token.

Token's body was covered in a foamy lather, and as he rinsed it off, Clyde couldn't look away. His strong hands rubbed against his smooth skin. He didn't have much in the way of chest hair, but Clyde liked that. He had always been bothered by how much hair he had covering his body. Clyde's eyes followed the cascading water as it ran down Token's body—every ridge, bump, and line of definition seemed highlighted. Clyde found himself thinking something he had never thought before.

Token was hot.

Clyde swallowed hard. "... conflicted about it," he finally finished.

"Does that mean we didn't completely scare you away?"

"Nah. You guys could never scare me away. But, uh...well...I guess I'm still thinking about it."

"I'd be lying if I said that doesn't make me happy," Token smiled.

He turned off the water to his shower nozzle and headed over to pick up his towel off the bar.

"Remember, take all time you need. See you tomorrow, bro."

Clyde watched Token wrap the towel around his waist and disappear into the locker room. As he finished washing up, he was hyper aware of one thing. He had felt genuinely disappointed when Token put his towel on.

The thought took him by surprise. Straight guys don't look at other guys and think they're hot. Except maybe if the guy is Chris Evans, but shit, he's Captain America. It'd be unpatriotic to not admit his hotness. Was this all because of yesterday? Suddenly Clyde was checking out his friend, what, just because he told him that he was bi, and said he and his girlfriend wanted to have sex with him?

Nichole was definitely hot, too. Clyde wouldn't have admitted this to Token before, but Clyde had often checked her out in her cheerleading outfit. Once he even saw her cheeky panties when she was bending over. Seriously, were Token and Nichole always this hot?

But still! Clyde didn't check out other _guys_ _!_ Usually. At least when he did, he never did so because he _liked_ it. Or did he? _Did_ he find men attractive? When did that happen?

* * *

On Thursday, Clyde purposely avoided Token all day. It was impossible to avoid him during practice, but he only engaged in whatever contact was required. To his credit, Token was totally cool with it. He respected Clyde's space while he needed it.

While Clyde was attempting to relax and go to sleep that night, his mind was infiltrated by thoughts of the proposition once again. This time, however, the thoughts were about Nichole. Soft, curvy, feminine Nichole. At first he remembered that she had told him to his face that she wanted to have sex with him. That was sexy as hell, and gave him a guilt-free reason to think about touching her, about kissing her, about fucking her.

He wrapped his hand around his cock and began to stroke himself as he thought about what her breasts would feel like in his hands. What her nipples would feel like between his fingertips. What her pussy would feel like when his dick was buried inside. Each stroke felt so good.

Then he started thinking about Token's hands sliding around his waist from behind. He thought about feeling Token's lips against his shoulder and his neck while he fucked Nichole. He wondered what Token's hard dick would feel like pressed against his ass. Without hesitation, Clyde took his other hand and licked his index finger before reaching down and rubbing it against his asshole. He didn't press in at all. He didn't have time to before he came in his hand.

Clyde snuck down the hall into the bathroom to clean up. His cheeks still felt warm as he washed his hands and dried them off. He was afraid of what this all meant. He had just had one of the best nuts of his life while he was thinking of a guy and touching his asshole. When he had told Token that he was feeling conflicted, he was telling the truth. But he hadn't specified that what he was feeling conflicted about was one of the few things that he had been certain about in his life. His sexuality.


	13. Chapter Twelve

The digital clock across the room advanced another minute. 1:17AM. Clyde stared at it from his bed, wishing it would go backwards in time. He had been unable to fall sleep for almost two hours. After his intense masturbatory adventure, he had tried, his body relaxed and blissful, but his mind was much too busy. His thoughts were twisted up in confusing knots.

Clyde had always identified as straight, even though he'd honestly never really thought about it in the first place. He just always knew that he liked girls. Sure, sometimes when he watched porn, he'd pick orgy clips where two guys also happened to be getting down with each other, but he always paid more attention to the bouncing tits and pussies getting railed. Only once or twice did his eyes wander over to the guys. The guy who was getting his ass reamed _did_ seem to be enjoying it, though. Either maybe it didn't hurt as much as Clyde thought it did, or the guy was an amazing actor. Porn stars weren't really known for their acting, though, so…

He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. This wasn't normal, right? Suddenly having a crisis of sexuality? Once you knew, you knew. That's what he always thought. Like Craig said he always knew he was gay. He never felt confused about who he liked and what he was looking for in a partner. So why was Clyde going through this? All that happened was that Token and Nichole asked if he wanted to join them in a threesome. He could've just said _no thanks_. Or he could've said _yes, as long as Nichole was in the middle_. He could have said any of that.

But he didn't. He had said _let me think about it_. It's like his mind was just waiting for a chance to question his sexuality, but he had never given it a chance until now. Was that a thing? A sexuality sleeper cell? Clyde rolled over and grabbed his phone off of the bedside table. He opened the internet browser and headed to Google. He had to find out if he was normal or not.

Typing in the questions _"how common is male bisexuality?"_ and _"is it normal to question your sexuality?"_ brought him a lot of helpful information, but nothing provided as much reassurance as _"is it normal for a guy to fantasize about his bro?"_ That search led him to Reddit. It was there where he found dozens of stories from other guys sharing similar feelings and experiences. It was so easy to relate to these men that Clyde was quickly drawn into their world.

The sound of his alarm going off made Clyde's heart jump into his throat. How long had he been asleep? He sat up in bed too fast and suddenly felt that he had a pounding headache. He couldn't remember what time it had been when he last checked, but he clearly did not get enough sleep. After a shower that was ineffective at making him more alert, and getting dressed, he found himself downstairs preparing a bowl of cereal.

"Clyde, what are you doing?!" Mr. Donovan exclaimed as he entered the kitchen.

Clyde rolled his eyes and put the carton back down onto the table. "Making some breakfast, dad. I'm allowed to do that, right?"

"Uh, yeah, you are, and you clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I was just trying to stop you before you poured orange juice onto your frosted flakes."

Clyde looked down at the table in front of him. Sure enough, a carton of OJ was placed right next to his bowl and there was no milk in sight. "Shit."

"Language, please."

"Sorry, dad. I just...I didn't sleep very well last night, and I feel groggy and tired and apparently I can't read now either." Clyde returned the juice to the refrigerator and grabbed the milk instead.

"Is everything okay? Having you been having frequent trouble sleeping? Is it because of your knee pain? Do you want me to call the doctor?"

Clyde smiled as he poured the milk and put it back. He appreciated that his dad cared so much about his well-being and tried his best to look out for him, but ever since his mom had died, his dad became somewhat overbearing. It was sweet, albeit annoying.

"Nah, it was just a one night thing. I was up reading about -"

Clyde stopped himself mid-sentence. He almost admitted to his dad that he was questioning his sexuality! He didn't know how his dad would react to that, and honestly, he didn't want anyone to know about this. Not until he was sure about the answer.

"- sports. Football. Like, tips on easing back into playing after a knee injury."

"I'm happy that you're eager to get back on the field, but take it easy. Don't push yourself too hard. You'll know when it feels right." Mr. Donovan looked at his phone and made a slight grunting noise. "I hate working with east coast suppliers. They text me way too early in the morning. Anyway, Clyde, I'm going to be working late tonight, so I won't be able to drive out to the game."

"That's fine, dad. If you want, I can have one of the other parents take a picture of me on the bench so you can see what you missed."

Thankfully his dad didn't take his comment too seriously, as it was intended as a joke. They both laughed with each other before Mr. Donovan disappeared into the house to answer the text. Clyde looked down at his now soggy cereal and sighed. Not wanting to waste food, he scarfed down the mush and drank the remaining milk, a few drops dripping down out of the corner of his mouth.

As he got inside his beloved E Honda, he thought about something his dad had said. _You'll know when it feels right._ He had meant it as a comment on football, but it felt very fitting for Clyde's actual dilemma.

"I'll know when it feels right," he said to himself as he pulled out onto the road. "I sure hope he's right."

* * *

"Hey!"

Clyde was woken up by a smack to the back of his head. He looked around and realized that he was still sitting outside at lunch.

"Dude. What is up with you today?" asked Craig. "You were falling asleep in Spanish, too. I know it's a boring class, but I've never seen you this out of it."

"Oh," said Clyde. He rubbed his eyes and took a bite of his sandwich like nothing had happened.

"Oh?" asked Craig. "Don't you be _oh-_ ing me, dude. I know something is going on with you, so spill."

"I'm just tired, that's all."

"Okay. _Why_ are you tired?"

"Because I didn't get enough sleep last night."

"Oh my god, dude, you're killing me. _Why_ didn't you get enough sleep last night?" asked Craig.

Clyde panicked and shoved the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth so that he couldn't answer.

"Really? We're gonna play that game? You know you're eventually going to have to chew and swallow that. Or do you really think that you can just go around the rest of the day with a huge wad of half-chewed roast beef sandwich in your mouth?"

Clyde made a series of unintelligible noises that were probably supposed to be words. A small piece of sandwich must have become stuck in his throat, as he began to cough and quickly spit out the food onto the ground next to him.

"Fucking gross, dude." Craig crossed his arms. "Since I had to witness that trainwreck, you now owe it to me to tell me what your problem is."

Clyde groaned. He really didn't want to risk his secret shame becoming public information. Craig wasn't a gossip, but he was also friends with Bebe, and she _definitely_ was a gossip. However, Craig was also the only guy who Clyde would feel comfortable talking to about questioning sexuality, and he'd probably understand since he's already gay. He sighed and gave in to his friend's demands.

"So…um... I was up late last night researching…stuff. I've been... I've been, uh… _questioning_...some things the last few days."

Clyde looked up at Craig through his lashes. When their eyes locked, it took a few seconds for Craig to realize what Clyde was trying to get at.

"Oh. _Oh_. Really? _You?_ Aren't you, like, the poster child for heterosexuality?"

"Wait, what? Is that an actual a thing?" Clyde asked.

"No, dude. It's just a phrase" Craig sighed. "But, like, you're always talking about girls and stuff. I'm just shocked... _confused_ really...about why you would suddenly start questioning your orientation."

Clyde started to blush as he thought about that night at Taco Bell. Craig noticed the growing pink in his cheeks and raised an eyebrow. He really wanted to know what—or more accurately, who—would cause Clyde to have that sort of reaction. Craig suspected that Clyde wouldn't have just started to question his sexuality on his own, but he also didn't want to push his friend to share too much while he was feeling so vulnerable.

"It's fine, dude," said Craig. "You don't need to tell me if you don't feel comfortable. I just always assumed you were straight."

"Heh, so did I," Clyde snorted.

"If anything, it just shows that I shouldn't assume someone's sexuality. None of us should, really. It's really common for people to question. Even if you come to the conclusion that yes, you are definitely straight, at least you actually gave it thought, you know? Instead of just blindly going with what society tells us we should be."

Craig put his arm around Clyde and pulled him close.

"No matter where you decide you stand on the spectrum, I support you," said Craig.

Clyde rested his head against Craig shoulder. It felt like a little of the weight had been lifted off of his mind.

"Just know that this isn't a teen movie. I'm not gonna kiss you to help you figure it out. You're on your own for that," said Craig.

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Clyde asked as he pulled away from Craig. His face was twisted up in confusion, but he was laughing at the same time.

"Things were getting a little too serious for my tastes. I had to lighten the mood. It worked though, right?" Craig winked at him.

"I love you, dude," Clyde laughed.

"What? No _'no homo'_ at the end?" Craig asked, feigning shock.

"Nope. I figure I should probably stop using that phrase, especially since it might not be true anymore. Maybe I should start saying _'no homo, unless you're interested_?"

"I think you should stick with just cutting it out of your vocabulary completely," Craig said, shaking his head. "And I love you, too, dude. All homo, all the time."

Craig laughed as Clyde threw his apple core at him.

* * *

In all the years of his high school football career, Clyde had never been stuck on the bench. Even if it was only for a few minutes, he found himself on the field every game, no matter what. Being forced to stay on the sidelines for an entire game due to injury was quite depressing, even if he knew it was for the best in the long run. He was thankful that his teammates weren't making a big deal about it. He was also a little pissed off that his teammates weren't making a big deal about it. Of course he was feeling conflicted emotions about it. That was clearly the theme of the week.

Clyde was also feeling conflicted about the fact that Token had avoided him the entire night. He purposely sat several seats behind him on the bus. He didn't eat dinner with him. Clyde understood what Token was doing. He wanted to give him space to figure things out. He didn't want to make Clyde feel like he was being pressured in any way. It was exactly what Clyde needed, but it still hurt to feel like one of your best friends was ignoring you.

Clyde desperately wanted to talk to someone. Craig had helped earlier that afternoon, but after such a depressing night and still being in his head, he felt a strong urge to get another person's perspective. Luckily for him, Stan decided to sit next to him on the bus ride home.

"Hey, man," said Clyde. "Good job out there tonight. You gave it your all."

"Yeah, I guess. But my all wasn't enough, obviously. And we were so damn close, too." Stan slumped down in the seat and pouted.

"Don't worry, dude. It's not like one loss is going to ruin our chances of going to the playoffs this year." Clyde glanced out the window. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me a little happy to know the team couldn't win without me."

"I think we could have won, even without you, if our heads had been in the game. I can't help but think that Token has something major on his mind. I've been dealing with some things, too."

Clyde looked at Stan with a questioning expression.

"Ah…just relationship stuff," Stan shrugged. "Stuff no one wants to hear about."

"I've been distracted, too."

Clyde and Stan were quiet for a while. Both drifted off into their own heads. It was late and the rest of the bus was slowly calming down, with some players falling asleep after the devastating loss. Once it looked like enough people were sleeping for Clyde to not be nervous about others hearing in, he went for it.

"Hey, Stan?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

Clyde lowered his voice and leaned in toward Stan. "Do you think it's weird for a guy to fantasize about another guy? Specifically, a friend?"

Stan fell quiet. He looked straight ahead, not bothering to turn to face Clyde when he finally spoke up.

"Why do you ask?"

Clyde swore he saw Stan blushing, but he wasn't about to bring it up now. Stan said he dealing with relationship stuff, but he clearly did _not_ want to talk about it. He was deflecting to Clyde. Clyde still didn't feel comfortable going into detail with anyone about his fantasies about Token and Nichole, especially not a fellow teammate. He swallowed hard and continued as vaguely as possible.

"I've just been, ah… Well, over the past week, when I've, you know...jerked it... I've been thinking about a guy friend."

Stan leaned away slightly. "It's not me, is it?"

"Nah, dude. It's not you. Don't worry." Clyde sat back up straight and looked out the window.

"Okay. Good. Cause I'm, like, totally straight, dude."

The uncomfortable silence that fell between them made Clyde shift in his seat. This was an awful idea. He had thought that getting another perspective, one from someone who wasn't Craig, someone who wasn't gay, would help him get closer to feeling "right". It did not. It made him feel even worse.

Of _course_ Craig would say it's normal to fantasize about a guy. He does it all the time! It's normal for _him_! But it's not normal for a straight guy. So...Clyde _must_ be bisexual if he's having these fantasies, is that it? Maybe Stan actually brought him closer to an answer than he originally thought.

But the way Stan looked at him, and the tone of his voice when Clyde admitted to having those feelings… Clyde didn't like it at all. If this was what being bisexual was going to feel like—having people looking at him differently, his straight guy friends feeling uncomfortable around him, just…feeling different in general—then he didn't want any part of it.

Clyde must have sighed pretty loudly because Stan finally spoke up once more.

"But, uh, if it makes you feel any better, dude… I have another friend who also told me once that he's fantasized about another guy. So I don't think it's weird or abnormal, you know? I think it's a totally healthy thing to do. I just haven't ever done that. I have a girlfriend, so...I'd never _need_ to fantasize about anyone else but her, you know?"

Clyde couldn't help but smile as Stan spoke. He was looking straight forward and his posture was rigid while he spoke. Stan was not a great liar. Still, him being willing to admit this to Clyde, even if it was in a roundabout way, made Clyde feel better. If Stan the Man even occasionally had fantasies about guys, then maybe it wasn't so bad.

"Thanks, Stan."

"No problem, bro."

"And please, tell your friend thank you, too," said Clyde with a grin.

Stan fell silent once again, a bright pink flush setting high in his cheeks.

* * *

"Thank you for coming with me."

"Yeah." Red twiddled her fingers anxiously. "It's not like I had anything else to do on a Saturday."

"Is that sarcasm?" Kenny chuckled.

He knew the Community Health Clinic was not a hot spot for teens. It felt nice, though, to have a friend there with him. Someone who could relate to his plight. Granted it was someone who could relate because he actively put them at risk, but still.

"Mm, only partly. I didn't actually have anything to do today, but I'm still tired from the away game last night. We didn't get back till one in the morning, and I was freaking exhausted." She looked up from her hands and smiled at Kenny. "And you're welcome. I'm honestly glad that you're here, too. I'm still nervous, but it'd be so much worse if I was alone."

Kenny cocked his head to the side. "Why are you nervous? We used a condom. I mean...we _didn't_ use a condom for oral stuff, but…"

"Oh god, Kenny, please! You're not helping!"

"Sorry, sorry… I guess I'm nervous, too. I've been tested before and I've always been clean, but this whole STD accusation has me in my head."

Red's eyebrows furrowed and she pursed her lips. "Can I tell you something?" she asked.

"Of course."

"I've, uh, I've never actually been tested." She lowered her head, focusing her attention on her frantic fingers once again.

Kenny shifted in his seat to face Red. "I wouldn't say that's anything to feel ashamed about. Not that many people our age are concerned with STDs and shit. It's that whole _I'm invincible_ mentality, you know? But guess what?" Kenny smiled and leaned down so that Red could see his face. "You're getting tested now. I think that deserves some fucking credit."

Kenny held up his hand with the palm facing Red. She looked up at him, with his goofy grin and his hand ready for a high five, and couldn't help but laugh. She sat up and gave him what he was looking for.

"You are a rare breed of guy, Kenny." Red put her hand up to her mouth in thought. "Are you interested in dating at the moment? Cause you would make such a good boyfriend."

Kenny rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know about that," he chuckled. "I'm not really looking for a relationship right now. Just kinda looking for casual hook-ups for a while."

"Fair enough," she said, her hand gently touching his shoulder. "I figured I'd check."

"Rebecca?" A medical assistant stood in the doorway to the waiting room, searching for whoever responded to the name.

Red cringed and stood up. "I hate my real name so much. I'm changing it as soon as I'm eighteen, I swear."

She took a deep breath and headed toward the door. She stopped and turned to Kenny one more time before walking through "I meant what I said, by the way. You'd be an awesome boyfriend, and I'm gonna be hella jealous of whoever you end up with."

The door closed behind her before Kenny could respond. He immediately took out his phone and sent her a text. _No one says hella anymore, dork_. Still, her words stuck with him.

He'd never actually dated anyone because I never wanted anyone to get too close, too attached. He had decided when he was younger that he'd make an awful boyfriend. Too poor. He wouldn't be able to take his partner out on dates or give them gifts. Too focused on his future. Would a potential partner be willing to work around his practice and work schedules? Too flirty. He was never sure if he ever could be faithful because he loved to flirt with anyone he found attractive, and even if he _was_ faithful, he didn't want to deal with the jealousy that would inevitably happen from his flirtatious behavior. So he just decided it was easier to play the game as a free agent. It had worked for him so far, but maybe someday he'd try that whole commitment thing.

For the right person.

"Kenny?"

He raised his hand to alert the medical assistant to his presence before following them back into the clinic.

* * *

Tweek Bros Coffee was awfully quiet on Sunday morning. When Craig and Bebe arrived, they were surprised to find Clyde and Kenny already sitting at the table together, alone, with no signs of struggle to be found. They looked at each other and shrugged, deciding to sit with them anyway.

Clyde and Kenny didn't look up when Craig and Bebe sat down. Kenny was staring obsessively at his phone, either refreshing a screen or scrolling through something every few seconds. Clyde was staring off into the middle distance, blinking a lot slower than usual. Neither were saying a word. It was borderline disturbing.

Tweek came over with their usual orders and opened his mouth to make a smartass remark, only to freeze in place. He slowly placed the tray down onto the table and took a step back.

"I want to ask what's going on...but I'm also afraid of the answer."

Bebe nodded. "Yeah. I think we all know what's on Kenny's mind at the moment, but I'm also afraid to find out what's going on with Clyde."

"I know the answer to that," said Craig. "But it's not my place to share what it is. Let's just say there's a lot on his mind, too."

"Do you guys want me to put these in to-go cups?" Tweek asked.

"That's probably a good idea," said Bebe.

Tweek took the tray and returned to his spot behind the counter.

"So...I'm guessing we should just call this, right?" asked Craig. "Or are we supposed to sit here in silence while these two idiots stew in their heads?"

"Yeah, no. I'm not wasting my Sunday morning on them if they're going to be like this. I could be having brunch with the girls right now," said Bebe.

"Sounds good. But, uh, just so Clyde doesn't come after me later for it, we should probably just confirm their scores or whatever."

"Clyde didn't tell me about any hook-ups, and you know he'd tell me like ten seconds after he was done. Plus, I haven't heard any gossip about it from the girls."

"Same thing with Kenny. After the whole STD scandal, I'm not sure when he's going to get another one, honestly. He said he was going to get tested, and he's probably clean because he _is_ really careful, but shit happens. Also now that he's labeled like that, even if it isn't true, it could be hard for people to not see him as the STD guy."

"So, you know what Clyde's deal is?" asked Bebe.

"Yeah. But like I said, it's not my place to talk about it. I'm pretty sure he'll tell you once he's come to terms with things. This _is_ Clyde we're talking about."

"Alright, assholes, here are your orders to go." Tweek placed each drink down in front of the respective person. He placed Craig's down in front of him and opened the lid. "You're killing me here, cutie. I tried to save the leaf as best I could." He nodded toward the cup.

Craig learned forward and smiled at the messy latte foam in a vague leaf-like design.

"And after all that practice I did this week." Tweek shook his head and crossed his arms, a faux frown on his face.

Craig picked up the latte and took a drink, sipping up all of the milky foam. He put the lid back on top of it and looked up at Tweek. "Consider yourself off the hook for the leaf..." Craig wiped off the trace amount of foam still on his lips with his thumb, then gently sucked it off while holding Tweek's gaze. "...cause you made it taste so good."

Tweek's nostrils flared as he slowly inhaled. His eyes lingered on Craig's lips just long enough for Bebe to notice. Tweek swallowed thickly and put the empty tray under his arm.

"I, uh, gotta get back to...uh, work. So..." He quickly spun around and walked all the way into the back room, out of sight.

"What the fuck was that?" Bebe asked excitedly. "You're suddenly a sex god or something?"

"What?" Craig replied flatly. "I can flirt, too." He shrugged, dismissing her surprised expression. "It just happens, like, once a year."

"So you're not denying that you like him now?" Bebe smirked.

That caught Craig by surprise.

"N-no…" he said, although the flush on his face gave away his true feelings. "I don't like him _that_ way. It's just that he's been trying so hard with that latte art and everything. I figured I'd throw him a bone, you know?"

"I don't think that's the kind of bone he wants from you," Bebe laughed.

* * *

"I'm so glad that you decided to do this with us," Nichole whispered into Clyde's ear.

She had just finished taking off her clothes and was now helping Clyde remove his shirt. She stood close enough for him to be able to feel her breasts press against him.

"This is something I've wanted to do for such a long time. I know Token has seen you naked, but I haven't yet. I hope you're as excited as I am."

She giggled softly into his ear and the sound went straight to his cock. He was _definitely_ excited. She began to unbutton his pants when Clyde felt a strong pair of hands slide along his hips from behind.

"Hey babe, let me help you with that. I know you haven't seen him naked yet, but don't hog all the fun to yourself," Token laughed, low and throaty.

He slipped his fingers underneath the hem of Clyde's pants and nuzzled his face against Clyde's neck. He quietly growled behind Clyde's ear as he watched Nichole slide down Clyde's and pull out his throbbing cock. The feeling of Nichole's hand around him and the sounds Token was making caused a moan to escape Clyde's lips. He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Aww, don't be embarrassed. Those are such delicious noises. I wanna hear more of those from you," Nichole purred. "Why don't you take a seat?"

Token moved out of the way as Clyde stumbled back onto the edge of the bed. He watched in hungry anticipation as Token and Nichole both lowered themselves to their knees. They each pressed against one of Clyde's thighs, spreading his legs apart so they could both get closer to what they wanted.

Clyde watched as their mouths moved closer to his aching cock. He wanted this. He wanted this so badly that his body was actually trembling.

Clyde woke with a loud groan and a rush of endorphins. It took him a moment to realize that he had come in his boxers. His embarrassment was short lived, however, as the dream that caused it was still so vivid in his mind. He quickly cleaned himself up and returned to bed.

He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and opened up his chat with Token. He was undoubtedly asleep since it was four in the morning, but Clyde couldn't wait. He had to do this now. He quickly typed out his message and hit send.

It simply read _Yes._


	14. Chapter Thirteen

The moment Clyde's alarm went off, he bolted upright and grabbed his phone. Token was the kind of guy who got up at the ass crack of dawn, so he _must_ have seen the text already and replied. Clyde swiped open his phone and immediately the air deflated out of his lungs. There was nothing. Not even an eggplant or peach emoji. He sighed and tossed the phone back onto his bed. He didn't want something small like this to ruin his entire day. He shuffled over to the source of the alarm and gave the off button a sweet karate chop.

He started up his morning routine, hoping it would distract himself from the disappointment. A couple solid hip-hop verses in the shower was enough to get him psyched up for the day. Once he was dried off and dressed, he ran downstairs, grabbed everything he needed for school, gave his dad a big hug, and was out the door.

A few minutes into Clyde's morning commute, his phone went off. Black Thunder was calling.

 _"It's okay when it's in a three-way/_

 _It's not gay when it's in a three-way…"_

Clyde fumbled as he tried to pick up his phone without taking his eyes off the road.

"Why the hell did I pick _this_ song for one of my best friends?" he said while shaking his head and swiping up to answer the phone.

"Hey Clyde!" chirped Nichole. "Good morning!"

"Hey Nichole, hey Token, good morning right back at ya. I'm guessing Token's the one driving?"

"You'd be right, and he has something he'd like to tell you." Clyde could hear her giggles in the background as she held the phone up to Token.

"I got your text," he said.

Clyde took a deep breath before he answered. "Oh yeah? Uh...what did you think about it?"

Token laughed. "Well, you didn't say much, but I got your message loud and clear. It made me really happy, bro."

"Me too!" Nichole called from behind the phone. "Hey baby, I'm just gonna put Clyde on speaker, okay?"

Clyde waited patiently as he heard the phone getting placed into the fancy car mount that Token had on the dash.

"That's better. Yeah, I'm so excited about this! I can't wait. We're going to have so much fun together." Clyde could practically hear heart emojis in her voice.

"You know, I actually had a dream—"

"I've been thinking about all the different positions we could try," Token interrupted. "I've always wanted to try doing an Eiffel Tower."

"That's pretty hot, I guess, but wh—"

"Baby, no! If I'm gonna get fucked on both ends, I don't want you to guys making a stupid pose the whole time. I don't want to be a meme!" Nichole whined.

"Okay fine, no pose. One of us could join you in going down on the other. That could be fun," said Token.

"Wait, I—"

"Why couldn't you both just go down on me, huh?" Nichole laughed. "Then again, I love the idea of going down on the both of you at the same time. Like I kneel on the floor between the two of you. That sounds really hot."

Clyde stopped even trying to get a thought into the conversation. He just continued to listen to Token and Nichole's experienced sexual brainstorming and felt his heart beating hard in his chest. It was exciting to hear them as they thought up sexy things for the three of them to do together, but it was also very overwhelming to have it thrown at him so early in the morning.

His mind was so focused on the phone conversation that he stopped paying attention to the road in front of him. Clyde didn't even realize he had run a red light until he heard car horns blaring. He had a split second to swerve to the side, narrowly missing a collision with another car.

After he was a safe distance from the intersection, Clyde pulled the car over and caught his breath. His heart was a sledgehammer in his chest. Token and Nichole were still brainstorming, oblivious to the situation at hand.

"Hey guys...I think I should let you go now. I'll see you at school, okay?"

"Yeah, okay bro! See ya! Drive safe!"

Clyde huffed out a laugh. _Drive safe_ , indeed. Who knew threesomes could be so dangerous?

* * *

Kenny let Karen gush about her art stuff for the entire ride to school. He really didn't feel like talking. Thankfully, Karen didn't notice and was happy to explain to him this trick she learned for drawing clothes in full detail. He really didn't want to explain to his younger sister why he was so distracted—why his reputation was on the line. It was going to be hard enough to get through the week in one piece as it was, let alone if he had to see the look of disappointment on Karen's face.

Karen spotted Craig as they turned for the school. As soon as the truck was in park, Karen burst out of the door and ran across the parking lot.

"Hey senpai!" she called out, waving her hands frantically above her head.

Craig stopped in his tracks and stared at his overly enthusiastic friend. "Hey, what did I tell you about that?" he asked, flatly. "Quit it. It sucks."

"It sucks just as much as you do, so it's a perfect nickname," Kenny quipped as he jogged up behind Karen.

"Oh. Great. Another lame McCormick. What a wonderful day it is."

"I think you mean another _awesome_ McCormick," said Karen, proudly.

Kenny held out his hands and they high-fived each other. Craig shook his head and sighed. He sometimes wondered what it would be like to have different friends.

Together, the three of them entered the front of the school building. Once inside, Karen skipped off ahead of them, leaving Kenny and Craig to continue on their own.

"So, how was your weekend?" asked Kenny.

"It was fine. Except that I wasted my Sunday morning sitting in a coffee shop watching two idiots stare into outer space."

"I thought you loved outer space!"

Craig gave Kenny the side-eye.

"Okay, bad joke." Kenny sighed and shrugged. "I'm sorry, dude. I didn't think Donovan was going to be distracted, too, or I would've just suggested we call it off. What the fuck could be making him distracted? His knee, I guess."

"It's not his knee," said Craig.

Kenny stopped walking. "You know what it is? Dude! You have to tell me! I need dirt on him!"

Craig turned around and crossed his arms. "No."

"Come on! You're supposed to be my second and shit! That means you're on _my_ side!"

"No. I never agreed to anything like that. I agreed to be a part of this dumbass competition by helping to validate your conquests. You're my friend and I love you, man, but I wouldn't agree to help sabotage my best friend for you. He confided in me and I am Fort fucking Knox."

Kenny held his hands up in the air. "Okay, okay, damn. I guess it's really fucking important then, whatever it is." Kenny took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. "Sorry, dude. I'm just really on edge."

"I don't blame you. You did go get... _you know_...this weekend?" asked Craig.

"Did I get tested for sexually transmitted diseases and or infections at the local community health clinic? Why yes, Craig. I did."

"How did that go?"

"I won't get the results until Thursday, and it fucking sucks to wait. I really don't want Karen finding out, either. She somehow missed those flyers last week, so I lucked out there. I just don't know how I'd go about explaining it."

Craig looked over his shoulder when he heard the sound of feet running down the hall behind them. "Uh...I think you need to figure that out immediately."

Kenny turned around to see Karen running up to him, holding out the latest issue of Super School News. An unflattering photo of Kenny was plastered on the front with the headline _"Random Slut Kenny McCormick Gives Fellow Student STD"_. The look on Karen's face made Kenny's heart drop.

"Kenny? What's this all about?" she asked.

Kenny leaned forward, pretending to read the headline more closely, so that he could buy himself some time to think.

"Hmm...I think someone in the Journalism club thinks they're funny. That's a joke article, if I've ever seen one. I don't mind being the butt of the joke, though. I'd rather it be me than someone else, right?"

"I guess…" She paused and looked at the paper once again. "Okay then. Have a good day, Kenny! You too, senpai!"

She folded the paper, stuck it under her arm, and ran off again towards homeroom.

"I don't think she bought it," said Craig once she was out of earshot.

"I don't know if she did or not, but I do know one thing. I'm going to fucking kill Jimmy Valmer."

* * *

Kenny did his best to make it through the first two periods of the day. It felt easier than he expected, possibly because he had the short-term goal of getting to English and confronting Jimmy. When the bell finally rang, he sprang up from his desk and did a hard walk to his next class.

Jimmy was already at his desk when Kenny walked through the door. Kenny strode up to him and threw the paper down onto his desk with a smack. Jimmy flinched at the sound.

"Hey. Valmer. Why the fuck would you put this in the school newspaper?" Kenny asked.

Jimmy sighed and looked up at Kenny. The drummer struck a surprisingly intimidating figure.

"I didn't want it on the front page. I w-w-wanted it in the gossip section in the ba-back, where it _belongs_ , but the scoop was too damn hot, Kenny."

"If you wanted it there, then why the hell didn't you put it there?! Aren't you the fucking president of the club?!"

"Yeah, I am. But in _my_ club, everyone gets a vote, and the other members overturned my decision. It is what it i-i-iiii~...is. The issue has been doing very well, from what I've heard. Readership is up this week."

Kenny shifted his weight onto his hip and folded his arms. "I'm disappointed in you, Jimmy. I thought you had journalistic integrity."

Jimmy grit his teeth in frustration. "You think I'm fu-fu-fucking happy about this? I've been fighting the current for years, but this is how newspapers are going, Ken. This is the era of fake news—of clickbait-style headlines in print. I wish it wasn't true, but putting something that students want to hear about on the front cover is going to get more people reading the newspaper, and hopefully get them to read the other articles, t-too."

Jimmy sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry, Ken. I can't say it hurts me as much as it hurts you, but…know that I am not proud of this."

Their English teacher walked into the room and immediately began to speak, cutting off any further discussion on the matter.

Later during class, Red sent Kenny a text.

 _Are you okay?_

 _No._

 _But I'll manage._

 _Thursday can't get here fast enough._

* * *

Thursday finally arrived, but it hadn't done anything to improve Kenny's anxiety. If anything, it made it worse. Each class was agony as he waited for his phone to ring. Jazz band was no better.

Kenny sat on the drum throne, his fingers gripping tightly around his drumsticks while Mr. Bunting had the brass section working on a few measures. He feared that he'd drop them if he loosened his grip at all; his hands were shaking from the anxious anticipation. Mr. Bunting brought the focus back to the entire band, counting them into the song of the day.

Kenny's movements were tense and he pushed the tempo of the song too much. Mr. Bunting tried to pull him back by clapping out the written tempo, but it didn't work. Kenny was in another world, and only one thing would bring him back to Earth.

Mr. Bunting cut off the band and turned to face Kenny. "What's going on, McCormick?"

"Sorry, Mr. B. I have a lot of my mind today." Kenny rubbed the back of his neck and averted his glance.

"I get that you guys have a lot of things to worry about at your age, but when you walk in here, I want you to try to leave your problems at the door so we can have fun and make some music. I need you to get your head in the game, McCormick. Let's give it one more try before you and Tweak switch off, okay?"

Kenny nodded. "I got it."

Mr. Bunting told the band to take it from the top and counted them in. Kenny focused all of his energy at loosening up and playing closer to his usual quality. As the song continued, he felt his muscles relax and he really did start to feel better. His lips even curled into a small smile.

 _"Champagne, cocaine, gasoline…"_

Kenny recognized his ringtone immediately. He jumped to his feet and dropped his drumstick with no warning. He stumbled over various instrument cases on his way to his backpack. The song unraveled quickly as the other students stopped playing to watch the disaster that was Kenny McCormick. Once he dug his phone out, he disappeared into the hallway without a word.

The jazz band was speechless for a moment. Everyone was staring at the door, waiting for Kenny to come back.

"What the hell was that all about?" asked Kyle, breaking the silence.

Tweek stood up and replaced Kenny's spot on the drum throne. "Pretty sure that was the clinic calling with his STD results."

The room filled with _"ahh"_ s, _"right"s, and "oh yeah!"s._

Mr. Bunting looked horrified. "Wait, what?!"

Out in the hallway, Kenny answered his phone.

"Hi, yes, this is Kenny McCormick!"

 _"Hello Kenneth, this is Susan from Park County Community Health Center. I have your test results for you. Can you confirm your birth date for me, please?"_

Kenny groaned and complied. He knew why they had to ask it—HIPPA and all—but he still thought it was kind of dumb, mainly because _they_ were the ones who specifically called him.

 _"Okay, thank you, sir. Kenneth, every test you had done came back negative."_

"Oh, thank fucking god," he sighed. "...uh...sorry for the language. I've just been really nervous all week."

 _"That's understandable, sir. I must encourage you to use protection if you are going to continue to be sexually active in order to prevent the spread of STDs and STIs."_

"Yeah, yeah, got it. Hey, before you go, would I be able to get a copy of those results in print? Uh, for my personal records."

 _"Certainly. You can come in any time before five and pick it up_."

Kenny ended the call and breathed a sigh of relief. It felt good to know that the accusation of transmission was definitely false, but Kenny wasn't able to fully relax just yet. There was still one more thing to fix.

* * *

The next day in English, Kenny slapped the test results down onto Jimmy's desk. The bell had rung to end class, but Jimmy was still getting his bag together. Jimmy turned to look at the paper, then up at Kenny.

"Congra...congraaaa...congratulations."

Kenny let the sarcasm in Jimmy's voice slide, crouching down to look him in the eyes.

"Look Jimmy, you said that you weren't happy with sensational headlines and gossipy articles. Here is hard evidence. If you want to make it up to me _and_ have a cover story that will get people reading, interview me. Let me tell my story. Let me show these results to the entire fucking school and spread the word that the flyers were a blatant lie and attempt to smear my name."

Jimmy pursed his lips in thought. After a moment, a crooked grin spread across his face.

"When are you free?" he asked.

"The band has tonight off 'cause it's an away game," said Kenny.

"How about we meet at Shakey's at seven, then?"

"Deal."

* * *

Away games never felt the same. They were just as important as home games, obviously, but not having that home field advantage was difficult. A handful of parents and students would carpool to away games to support the Bulls, but it was barely enough to fill a quarter of the away team bleachers. The cheerleaders did their best to work those diehard fans into a lather, putting in the same level of energy that they gave at home. Still, their best was never enough to drown out the roar of the home team crowds. Cartman's antics as Billy the Bull were as irreverent as always, but the home crowds didn't appreciate him slapping his ass at them.

This week, the Bulls traveled to Arvada to play against Faith Christian High School. They were a strong competitor and Park County had to fight for every yard. The teams were tied 14-14 at the end of the fourth quarter and went into overtime, where Park County managed to win with a field goal.

"I still say we wouldn't have had to go into overtime if we were playing at home," Stan whined as the players loaded onto the bus home.

"We wouldn't have had to go into overtime if I was cleared to play," Clyde added.

Stan shrugged at him and picked a seat. Clyde sat next to him and got comfy.

"I can't wait for next week, dude," Clyde continued. "It felt so good to not need the crutches anymore, but it's gonna feel like I'm nutting when I get cleared to play."

"I admit it will be nice to play with you again. The three amigos will be back together again on the field."

Coach McKay got on the bus and began to give a post-game speech while the driver turned over the engine and started the journey home. Once the speech was over, the bus fell quiet as everyone immediately whipped out their phones.

While Clyde was looking up the latest scores for the other teams in their division, a new text from Token popped up on his screen.

 _Hey dude, I have the house to myself this weekend._

 _Both parents are off at conferences in Los Angeles, so they are faaaar away_

 _Wanna come over tonight and hang with me and Nichole?_

Clyde felt his stomach flip. He bit his lip and took a deep breath before he answered.

 _By "hang" you mean...have a threesome?_

 _That was the implied subtext, yes. ;)_

 _Okay then_

Clyde wanted this, he really did. However, with it now a mere two hours away, he felt overwhelmed with a slew of emotions - excitement, fear, joy - but anxiety and arousal took center stage.

Did he really think this through? What if they were disappointed afterward? What if he couldn't perform at all? What if he said something stupid that killed the mood? What if he straight up cried after he came? This was serious. This was a huge step in his friendship with both Token and Nichole, and if things didn't go well, it could potentially ruin that friendship. It could even cause strain in _their_ relationship, and the last thing Clyde wanted was to be responsible for their break-up.

Clyde's body had a different reaction. His heart was beating faster and sending blood straight to his dick, in spite of his intrusive thoughts. He glanced over at Stan. Thankfully, he still has his nose in his phone and had no idea that Clyde had a boner. Clyde tried to shift in his seat and discreetly adjust himself without anyone noticing. He needed to think of something that would turn him off, at least long enough to survive the trip back to South Park.

He looked over at Stan again. It appeared that he was looking through photos of the marching band. He was lingering on a close-up of Kyle in his uniform, standing at attention. Clyde smiled. Stan and Kyle had been best friends even longer than he and Craig. He was happy that Stan was such a supportive friend.

"Do you miss him?" Clyde asked.

"What?!" Stan jolted in his seat and clutched his phone to his chest.

Clyde smiled. "Do you miss him? Kyle, I mean."

Stan narrowed his eyes. "Why would I miss him?"

"Uh...cause he's your best bro and the band doesn't come to away games? You were looking at his photo kinda...I dunno...longingly? Like you missed him."

"Oh. Yeah. Definitely. I just really miss my bro." Stan seemed to refuse to make eye contact with Clyde. "I, uh, miss the entire band, you know? It just doesn't feel the same without them."

Clyde sighed and rubbed his chin. "I hate to say it, but I think you're right."

It _had_ felt weird not having the band at the game. It was even more glaring because Faith Christian didn't have a marching band of their own. Halftime just felt sort of empty without them wandering around the field, tooting their horns and banging their drums or whatever it was that they did. Just because he hated the leader of the drumline didn't mean he had to hate the whole group. Wendy was pretty cool. Butters was always ready with a hug. He hadn't hung with Heidi or Kyle since middle school, so he didn't know what they were like now, but he held no grudges against them.

Then there was McCormick. He was the last person Clyde wanted to think about while he was trying to quell a raging hard-on, yet it felt like everything always came back to him and his stupid face.

Still, Clyde had to admit that Kenny was good at what he did. Ever since that game where he and Stan had snuck under the bleachers to watch the band, he had wanted to watch more. It was hard to not be drawn to the band, especially the drumline. They had some magical power, it seemed, to make people want to get on their feet, dance, and cheer in the stands. The marching band just made people feel good. Maybe that's why everyone seemed to like Kenny. Maybe he had a natural ability to make those around him feel good. Maybe…?

But if that was the case, then why was Clyde seemingly immune to these good vibes he was supposedly throwing off? Why did they hate each other? Clyde honestly couldn't remember what had caused their friendship to deteriorate into this mess. They were almost inseparable back in middle school, but then…

"Heh, _now_ who's the one looking longingly?" said Stan.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Dude, you've been staring out into the middle distance for a while and you had this sort of...wistful look on your face."

"Wistful? What the fuck does that mean?" asked Clyde.

"It's a word Kyle taught me. He said it meant, like, melancholic yearning?"

"Melan-cola- _whaa?_ "

"I dunno, dude. It's some smart person bullshit," Stan laughed. "But whatever. The point is that now _you_ looked like you were missing someone. So who is it?" Stan grinned, now that he was the one in the interrogator's chair.

 _…Kenny?_

" _Psh_ , I'm not missing anyone, dude. I think you're deflecting cause you're embarrassed that you miss your super best friend."

"Hmm. I dunno, dude. But fine, whatever."

Stan easily changed the subject to which Overwatch characters were the best, and the two of them spent the rest of the ride having a friendly dispute. Talking about various video game characters who he did not want to sleep with was the perfect remedy to his erection dilemma.

The bus finally arrived back at Park County High after midnight. Clyde grabbed his jacket—the only thing he had brought with him since he was still on the injured list—and headed to the exit.

Nichole was already waiting by Token's car when he disembarked. She waved him over.

"I already texted this to Token, but I am freaking exhausted. I was really looking forward to tonight, but are you free tomorrow? Like he said, his parents are gone all weekend, so there's no rush. We can take as much time as we need."

Clyde felt relief wash over him. "Yeah, that's fine. I'm pretty tired, too."

"Okay, great!" Nichole came in close and gave Clyde a big hug. She stood on her toes and whispered into his ear. "Make sure to get a good night's sleep, cause you're going to need all your energy for tomorrow, big guy." She pulled away and winked at Clyde before running off to greet Token.

Anxiety and arousal were quickly becoming Clyde's new best friends.


End file.
